Population: 2,000
by DeadDean
Summary: (teenage-self-discovery/teenage-stupidity/teenage-freedom/living-an-aesthetic/building-your-own-family-in-this-crappy-small-town) Dean Winchester has spent his entire life on the outskirts of this little city in Kansas, dreaming only of leaving. He has four reasons to stay. Charlie, Kevin, School, and Work. Until Castiel Novak walks into his life. Well, now there's five.
1. The Dark

Dean Winchester hated the dark. Hated it.

Ever since he was three years old, he demanded his closet door to be shut, his bed checked under, and his race car night light to be turned on. If need be, he would do all those things himself with his tiny hands and tottering gait.

When he was five, he parents installed a fire pit in the backyard and made a bonfire, inviting over neighbors. This was when Dean first experienced fire. He loved the was it snapped and crackled; the way flames reached up to the sky and danced with the wind. He did not love it when he touched the side of the pit and acquired a large burn on his arm that he needed to be taken to the hospital for. Eleven years later and there was still a faint scar on his right arm.

When he was seven and Sam was five, he'd sneak into his little brothers room and sleep on the floor, because he didn't want to be alone in the dark. What he told his parents was that he needed to protect Sammy from The Monsters. The Monsters that would hide behind corners and keep him from sleeping. From then on, if Dean was not sleeping in Sammy's room he slept with the blankets over his head, wrapped up like a cocoon. Old habits die hard, and habits born out of fear must die harder, because Dean still slept like that now, curled up and scared.

One night when he was nine and he was playing in the backyard, he caught a glimpse of a firefly. Then another firefly. And another. This resulted in two hours and many back and forth trips in and out of his room with jars inhabited by little lightning bugs. At the end of the night, Dean had captured over two dozen lightning bugs and kept them in his room, free to fly around. He still remembered how they flew around and lit up the dark. Within two days his mother found out and was furious that he was letting insects roam around in his bedroom, and all of the fireflies that he could find had to be returned "to the wild."

When he was twelve years old, he tried to shut away his fear of the dark. He was in seventh grade, and seventh graders were practically adults now. Adults weren't afraid of anything, so neither was he, not anymore. From the minute the sun set and the lights were turned off, Dean closed his eyes and refused to let the dark win. He let the tiny, almost invisible pinpricks of light behind his eyelids be his comfort, and he told himself "I will not be afraid, I will not be afraid, I will not be afraid." Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but for a few short minutes he was able to slip away and fall asleep.

Fifteen years old, and his fear had not wavered. His fear had twisted and turned into something new. He was afraid of everything and nothing. It was now not about fear of something, it was about the physical form of it. Fear with a capital F. Anxiety, was what it was called, but Dean Winchester had built himself a reputation at high school, and he would not be labeled as afraid. He would not let on about how he could not sleep, or how Fear followed him with every step. It became a second skin that he walked in, but he would not let anyone know. Not his so-called friends, his teachers, and especially not his family. His dad was working a lot to keep them afloat after his parents got divorced, and they were finally getting into a nice rhythm at home. And Sam was out of the question. He would never tell Sam anything, never add another burden for the kid to bear. At eleven years old, Sammy was getting picked on at school, and Dean would not add to his hurting, no matter what. And Bobby. Bobby was like his father. He could lean on him in a way that seemed impossible to do with John. But he needed to support himself, and he would not be a burden to those he loved. So he kept it hidden. All of it.

Now, seventeen years old with a spot on the baseball team at high school, it was getting harder to hide everything. At the same time, it was easier. Last year stress and outbursts could be blamed on testing. It was stressful for everyone, so breaking down was quickly deemed normal. However, this year it would be harder. Senior year was supposed to be the best year. The year where you finally grew up, where you felt better about drinking at parties. The year where you pushed through and got to smirk at underclassmen. The year where everything was coming together and with one last burst of effort, you could make it in the adult world. That's what it felt like, but the reality was that here on the outskirts of the sixth largest city in Kansas, a quarter of the people in the community would never get a good secondary education, and for those that did it was shitty community colleges all the way. Not to mention that the quarter of the people who didn't go to college were giant jerks who peaked in high school and would be stuck in this city for the rest of their lives. Even the downtown area of Lawrence seemed small and claustrophobic compared to the rest of the world. Flashlights were enough if you'd never touched the stars, and Dean had seen stars. He saw stars every night. He looked to the skies. But he still craved more. He craved big cities with lights that lit up the skyline exactly like stars. Except those stars looked in reach. He could sit in the middle of downtown L.A at night, and the buildings would be alive. Here, you could drive a couple miles out of town and encounter acres of sleeping fields that would never wake up, even in the daytime. Dean craved expansion and new heights and towering structures or trees that scraped the stars. A rainforest whose soil held more life than his school. A skyscraper that swayed with the wind and whose lights never turned off. Dean craved so much more of that lively something that this place had almost none of.


	2. French Fries and Insomnia

School was approaching quickly, much to Dean's utter dismay. Five weeks until he had to go back to the daily grind. Until he had to face Michael and Zach and Rafael and all of the other idiot jerks. It was not that they were mean to him. Being either on the baseball team with him or in the lacrosse team, they were cordial to him. It was not the fact that they were all borderline bullies or that they had no regard for athlete code of conduct. Dean couldn't care less about that. Once you got into high school parties, you drank. This was common knowledge in the area. It was more of this foul, unnameable _thing_ that was inside them. Everything they did, everything they stood for, was so two dimensional and flat. Parties where they got to play cool and drink and tell stories of all the times they did weed but the minutes anyone brought out the stuff they'd leave and call everyone else "shithead stoners". Moments in school where they walked the halls and bragged about everything they had done last weekend, and their abilities to get at any of the girls at school. The way they looked at underclassmen like they were better. How they strut around and looked girls up and down without shame and pretended it was cool. Some of the things they did Dean was guilty of as well. Some days he'd say "to hell with it" and bask in the moment where he too could walk the halls and feel invincible. It felt good. But all it ever was was a small, self esteem booster shot. Some of his grades may have be straddling the fence between and B and a C, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that everything he felt at school was temporary. Michael and Zach and Rafael were only kings so long as they walked those halls. But once they left high school, they would be nobodies. Bragging about who you had sex with last night was not going to earn you money. Catcalling girls and being a jerk was not going to put you through college. Their kingdom would fall as soon as they left, and the crown they worse so sturdily on their heads would be taken away and given to the next batch of false gods.

At the moment, Dean was sitting (hiding) in the attic reading and thinking about his internalized hatred for those shitheads. The book was called _The Jungle of Newton Avenue_ and was about a gang of kids in the 40's that lived on the streets of New York City. The age rating was for 6th graders, but Dean had yet to find a good book that was high school rated. All the good books were labeled for kids, that's what he and Charlie thought. His only other real friend, Kevin, thought that the only books worth reading were written by Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, or James Patterson. The exception being Harry Potter. Dean had yet to meet anyone immune to the magical charm of Harry Potter.

"Dean!" a slightly angry voice from below shouted. Dean was all too aware that this voice belonged to his father, John Winchester. He was also much too aware that he knew where his hiding place in the attic was, and would not hesitate to march up there and drag him downstairs.

He reluctantly clambered out from behind the pile of boxes and set down his book on the floor. Some of these boxes had been there before his parents moved here, some of them were boxes they had brought, and he was convinced that some of them were created from a black void and multiplied every time he went up there. Five years ago when he first discovered that the boxes formed a perfect hiding space next to the window, Dean was thrilled that he had found something so secret. The boxes only needed to be stacked and pushed a little more to create more room and a space to go in and out, and once he did that, Dean had created his own small corner of the world. Unfortunately, the house was only so big, and John eventually discovered where he had been sneaking off too. Still, he'd respected his privacy enough not the bother him when he went there or to ever go there himself. But when John meant business, _he meant business._

Dean half-ran-half-jumped down the stairs, wondering what he'd done this time. He casually walked into the kitchen.

"Hey dad. What's up?"

 _Stupid stupid stupid. Don't say "what's up" to your dad._

He shifted side to side in his feet and twisted the ring on his finger.

"Did you still want to go to that guy Zachary's party?"

No, not really. He never did. But Charlie and Kevin were going, and if they stayed for a few minutes and skipped out to do something else, their parents wouldn't have to squabble about where they were going or who they would be with.

"Yeah, why?"

"Bobby and I are gonna be fixing up a couple of cars tomorrow, so if you still want to go there's no reason for you to stay here all day."

Dean tried not to show how confused he was. When was the last time his dad actually went out of his way to have a conversation with him about something like this?

"Really? Thanks dad," Dean said. John was taking out dishes from the dishwasher and Dean stepped in to help him.

John made a noise somewhere between and grunt and huff that Dean knew was neutral acknowledgement of his thanks and his help. They slipped into a rhythm of silence that they had both gotten used to over the years. Ten years ago when Dean was eight and Sam was four, John and Mary Winchester fell out of love, and five excruciatingly painful months of arguments later, they got divorced. Since then, Dean lived with John in Lawrence, Kansas, and Sam lived with Mary in Springfield, Illinois. The two brothers were separated by a five hour drive with approximately three-hundred-forty-eight miles of space between them. Once inseparably, they now only saw each other once or twice a month as best. After Mary left, she took away most of the laughter and music from the house. Without a constantly screaming little brother to play with, Dean fell quiet for a long while, not knowing what to do. As he got older, his father remained quiet and stuck inside himself. He laughed often and would talk to others and do everything you'd expect a father to do, but once it was just him and Dean in the house, they both were silent. When Dean was twelve, the years of silence almost ate him up, and more times than he could count he would be desperate for noise, desperate for something that would indicate he was still alive. When he was thirteen, Dean found ways to remind himself he was real. Running out to the fields and screaming into the sky. Running until he fell to the ground or threw up. A pumping heart, searing lungs, a sore throat, they were all ways to banish silence from his life. Movement. Noise. Blood. Over time he found healthier ways to deal with the silence, the horribly deafening silence. Now, it was a welcome friend. Like his fears, he wore the silence as a protective cape, another self he could step into.

John also seemed used to the lack of noise in the house, and neither of them found a reason to break the silence as they put away the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Dean didn't announce that he was done cleaning the counters and that he was going back upstairs. The creak of the hardwood floor to the soft whispers of carpet under his feet did that for him. The squeak of the second, seventh, and twelfth step on the staircase declared for him that he was upstairs. The house had also grown used to the silence, and had found ways to speak for the two of them, it seemed.

Once on the second floor, Dean walked to the smaller set of stairs inside a closet at the end of the hall that led to the attic. In summer, the attic was sweltering, but at this time of day, it wasn't so bad. He could open the window and let the cool twilight air in his "fortress of solitude". Inside his pile of boxes, he kept all of the emergency supplies a teen could need when retreating from the world. A flashlight, pillow, blanket, and a pile of books.

He sat down on the pillow and opened his phone, sending a message to Charlie and Kevin.

 _You: Still up for Zach's Party?_

 _Annoying redhead: Yeah. Ur dad give you the OK?_

 _You: Yeah. Where are we going once we leave?_

 _Kev: Park or fields. Need to drive to fields though. Or we could just drive around._

 _You: I'm good with anything_

 _Kev:Park's close to Zach's_

 _Annoying redhead: Parks good w/ me_

 _You: K. See u at Zach's at 5_

He set down the phone and leaned against the window. Tomorrow was supposed to rain bad, but Sunday looked alright. Hopefully. Maybe. If not they'd be sitting at the park in the rain. There was a certain alteration of reality when you sat in the middle of a children's park in the raining dark with your friends. Time felt fluid and slipping, as if that moment had happened before and would continue to happen over and over. It was nice until an overbearing mother came and yelled at you that the park was supposed to be for children only, and you had to force away your angry fiery redhead friend.

Dean opened up his book again and read until the sky turned dark and he used the flashlight to navigate his way to his room. No point in doing anything else tonight if he had to force himself to do it. Besides, if he could squeeze in an extra hour of sleep, he'd take it. He'd need the energy for tomorrow. After trudging through his nightly routine, he met little resistance from his brain and easily fell asleep.

It was only 8 o'clock at Zacks, and yet most of the crowd there was completely and utterly drunk. Dean and Kevin stood in a corner in the living room, both of them holding cheap styrofoam cups of beer. And it wasn't even good beer. One sip and Dean knew it was that shitty stuff you could get in bulk at the dollar store where they didn't ask to see an I.D.

Dean checked his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. They'd been here for almost an hour, and Kevin had pointed out they should probably leave. Unfortunately, Charlie was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe we should look for her!" Kevin yelled over the blasting pop-music.

Dean just shook his head instead of yelling. Like a horror movie, splitting up at one of Zach's parties could mean certain death.

"Look for her together?"

Dean nodded, and they pushed through the crowd of people in the living room. A quick glance across the sea of brown and blond and black hair confirmed that Charlie wasn't there. Nobody in the laundry room except for Toni and Cole, two sophomores who were sitting on the washing machines and smoking. Nobody in the rest of the first floor, and everyone knew that the rest of the house was strictly off limits. Rumor has it that the second floor was where Zach's mother kept her drugs and he didn't want his friends pulling back the curtains on his private life. Dean and Kev slowly made their way to the backyard, where most of the crowd was. In Zach's lovely 30 feet across pool had a dozen empty red solo cups floating in it, along with a blue inner tube that had "zippy" written on it in smudgy marker. Again, everyone in and out of the pool looked very intoxicated. On the verge of giving up, Dean pulled out her phone to call Charlie when she very suddenly appeared next to him.

"Where have you been?" Dean didn't have to yell now that they were outside.

"Just talking with some other friends. You guys wanna get outta here?"  
Kevin and Dean nodded simultaneously and the trio made their way to the front door. It was easier said than done. Every few seconds someone tried to talk to Dean or shove alcohol in Kevin's hands or whisk Charlie away.

"We should have just jumped the fence in the backyard," Kevin complained when they were finally out the door.

"You have the athletic capabilities of a wounded kitten," Charlie laughed.

"Says the girl who twisted her ankle while playing Dance Dance Revolution." Dean pulled his keys out of his back pocket and unlocked the car.

Charlie pointed a finger at him accusingly and said, "I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."

Kevin laughed and opened the door, sliding inside the car.

"I remember that! You got to use the elevator at school for a day and you said you twisted it playing baseball!"

Charlie mumbled something that sounded a lot like "duck you base-moles."

"Okay gang," Dean stated up the car and rested his hands on the steering wheel. He swore he could feel her breathe when he started her up. "Where to?"

"Just drive," Charlie said. She was already tying up her hair and rolling down the window. Kevin quickly followed suit, and Dean cranked the window down before driving off. The roads quickly widened and turned into highways as Dean grabbed at a cassette tape from a box on the floor next to the passenger seat. He popped the tape in and turned up the volume, letting the wind and the music and the shouts of his friends turn the fire in his chest to a flickering candle.

Next to his own life, the Impala was Dean's most valued possession. Even now, speeding down the empty highway, he was careful to keep his focus on the road and on the feel of his car. John had promised this beloved 1967 Chevrolet Impala to Dean when he was ten years old, and Dean had lusted after it since then. For his sixteenth birthday, this beautiful car had been the best gift of his life. Of course, it had come with another promise from John that if he so much as dented it, Dean would never even lay eyes on her again. So he was careful. He kept her in prime condition. All of his savings were split in three. One for college, a bit for spending, and the rest for taking care of his baby. His dream was to install more up to date safety features on her, and to keep her for as long as he lived. He lived and breathed with this car. He knew exactly how to jiggle the keys to get them to slide out perfectly. He put just the right amount of pressure on the stick. He could coax a few more miles out of her before refilling the gas. When Dean breathed in and out, this car purred in tune. The comforting smell of gasoline and fast food and leather and false air freshener would greet him before he even opened the door. Charlie and Kevin and even Sam often asked why he kept some of the flaws of the car. But to Dean, the so called flaws were what made her special. The legos in the vents that Dean had shoved in when he was four. The toy army men Sam accidentally stuck in the ashtray when _he_ was four. The radio with the twitchy dial. The cassette tape player that turned the first few seconds of a tape into static. Dean wanted all of these to stay forever, even if "you could just instal like an actual radio or an ipod dock or _something_ Dean."

At the moment, that rattley old cassette player was working it's way through one of Dean's personal playlists with a perfect combination of AC/DC, Metallica, Foreigner, and every other lovely rock band that had found it's way into the hipster hall of fame. He wouldn't say it because it would make him look like the most pretentious hipster of all time, but Dean had grown up with those bands and hated seeming them being brutally murdered by flannel wearing, black-coffee drinking idiots.

"You _need_ to let me make you a tape with something after the 90's on it my man." Charlie shouted over the roar of the engine and the combined noise of the wind and the music. It seemed this particular day's potential had to do with yelling over music.

"No can do _mi amigo_. Driver picks the music, and the peanut gallery can shove it."

"This peanut gallery needs to get something to eat." Kevin said decisively, and Dean slowed down, getting out at the next exit. If you were a teenager living off the salary of working at your uncle's auto body shop, walmart, and being a lifeguard at the pool in summers, you options for cheap food was limited. At this point in his life, anything to eat that cost more than twenty dollars was not worth it, especially not when the nearest Sonic gave student discounts and a free small fry. (Only if a classmate happened to be working there, however. Free food given was a unspoken rule of Meadows Secondary School.)

"It's been less than fifteen minutes since we got on the road, and now you wanna go eat?" Dean made it sound accusatory and like he was against the option, but he was still driving off the highway and towards the strip of fast food restaurants. He no longer needed to blast the music to be heard over the roar of the wind.

"Yes. I'm starving, I haven't eaten since breakfast. Where do you wanna go?" Kevin said.

"Sonic the Hedgehog!" Charlie interjected, twirling her hair around her fingers. It looked like she was toying with silky strands of fire.

"Sonic the Hedgehog," Dean repeated. "Did you ever even play that game?"

"Um, yes. Yes. Yes again. It's the only game I play that came out after 1990."  
"Do any of you guys actively participate in _anything_ from the current century? What do you have against modern music or modern video games?"  
Both Charlie and Dean simultaneously burst out an argument on exactly what was wrong with modern music and the flaws of current video games when Kevin said, "Oh forget I asked!"

The next five minutes passed in silence-always the silence, _always_ -until the reached the strip of fast food restaurants. God bless the road-trippers who enabled the restaurants to stay open. Dean pulled into the Sonic parking lot, which had only two other cars in it. A red minivan that had a family sticker on the back, and a car that could only belong to someone from the lacross team. The "Meadows Lacross Team" sticker gave it away. Dean didn't really understand the bumber-sticker, window decal thing on your car. If someone came to murder you can you hid your kids in the closet, the murderer would say "You think you're slick? I saw the sticker on your toyota van that says you've got three kids, so bring 'em on out so I can get stabby." But that was just his opinion.

Kevin was the last to get out, and when he did he ran up to Dean and Charlie and threw his arms around their shoulders. Dean knew that this was a feat that was harder for Kevin to pull of than Kevin would admit. Dean was six feet tall (okay, five eleven and a half, but he liked rounding it,) and Charlie was five-six. Kevin, by contrast, was barely pushing five-three, and had to jump to get his arms on their shoulders. Dean realized the in one hand, Kevin was holding a couple dollar bills.

"Okay, what should we get, because I think we're all broke." Dean detatched himself from Kevin to open the door. His deductions about the occupants of the two cars were right. There was a family with three girls-one around ten, the other two around five- and a group of loud boys all wearing the lacross team uniform. Two with floppy brown hair, and one with inky black spikes. He'd seen the kids at school before, but couldn't be bothered to remember who they were.

"Yeah, um, I have eight dollars. I'm rich, boys." Charlie pulled out a wallet covered in marvel stickers.

Kevin raised the hand that held the bills, and said,

"Alright guys, I got two dollars."

Dean said nothing, but pulled out his wallet and took out a ten. Before Charlie or Kevin could protest, he ordered three fries and three sodas.

"Hey! Not fair. You didn't even give us a chance to haggle with you," Charlie said.

"True! I could have bought fries with these." Kevin waved the bills at his face and put them back in his pocket.

"If you keep paying for food without giving us a chance to argue with you I'll have to abandon you guys," Kevin said.

Dean said nothing as he took the tray of french fries from the counter and added a "thank you" to the cashier. Some sophomore that had moved here recently.

"If you leave we become just another duo of white kids, and my percentage of friends drops like twenty-five percent," Charlie said. She grabbed a double booth next to the track team and picked up a container of fries. Sweet, cheap, greasy heaven. Maybe they would face repercussions for eating taco bell and sonic and culver's once every week. But that was as far from their minds as adulthood.

"You have exactly two friends-me and Kevin," Dean said, taking the other container of fries and pushing the tray to his right where Kevin sat.

"Not true. I have you, Kevin, Garth, Meg, Jo, Ash, and Cas."

"I know Jo and Ash pretty well, but who's Cas?" Dean asked.

"Hold up." Charlie slid out of the boot to the counter in the front of the restaurant and came back with packets of ketchup and mustard. She gave half the ketchup to Dean and the mustard to Kevin, taking the rest of the ketchup for herself and drowning her fries.

"I met Castiel like, a year ago at some summer camp in Shawnee, but it wasn't co-ed, so we had to sneak out at night to play games against the guys," Charlie said.

"Cas's group-the hornets, they called themselves-and our's. We called ourselves the wildcats like from high school musical but that's not the point." Charlie finished off spreading around her third packet of ketchup and opened another.

"Every tuesday we played soccer and football and a couple times we stole the dart boards and cards from the main house and played darts and poker for food coupons. Cas's team always beat us in soccer, and I always beat him at darts."

"Why darts?" Kevin questioned.

"Have you seen me? I'm active, not athletic. Darts is more precision and skill than strength and excellent cardio," Charlie said.

The boy with spiky black hair turned around.

"Did I hear query of my excellence?"

"Get out," Charlie said.

The boy-Cas- flashed a slightly awkward smile at Dean and Kevin.

"I'm Castiel Novak, and I'm better than Charlie at soccer."

"No one cares. I can beat you one on one at basketball and I'm much better than you at darts and poker so shush." Charlie had finished drowning the rest of her fries in the ketchup. She picked a small one up and threw it in the air, catching it in her mouth. Kevin tried to do it but the french fry landed on his cheek and he got mustard all over his face.

"I'll bet you five dollars you can't actually catch it three times in a row," Cas said. He absently grabbed a napkin from his table and handed it to Kevin, who said nothing but thanked Cas with his eyes.

"Five dollars she can," Kevin said.

"I second that," Dean said.

Cas looked at him and said "You don't look like the type of kid to flippantly gamble money."

"You don't know anything about me," Dean said. He looked at Cas's eyes and caught a glimpse, a flash of something. Something sour, something sweet, and something raging on fire. Something dangerous conducted when Dean met his eyes. Blue. They were blue. Dean immediately pegged them as Castiel-Blue. He was always fascinated with people's eyes. "Windows to the soul" that's what they said your eyes were. More like windows to you. In your eyes there were prophecies of who you were meant to be. In Charlie's brown eyes he saw leather and pages of old books unopened and beautiful poisonous flowers. In Kevin's there were whirlwinds and and tea leaves and strings classical music. Dean thought that everyone's eyes were like their fingerprints, each different. And there were different kinds of fingerprints, different colors of eyes, but no one's were the same. Kevin's and Charlie's brown eyes seemed to him as different as his green eyes and Cas's blue. Though Cas's seemed much more dangerous, more caged than anything Dean had seen. Like a wild animal that had been kept inside for far too long.

"Okay, that's one!" Charlie said.

Dean snapped his head back to Charlie and saw she was throwing a second fry into the air. She must have thrown it too hard, because it hit the ceiling and left a smear of red on it, sticking to it slightly.

"Well, that's ten-" Cas began.

The fry fell off the ceiling and Charlie-unfazed-caught it and ate it with a blank face.

"What the hell," Kevin said.

"God dammit don't swear, asshole," Dean said.

Charlie took one last french fry, threw it high up in the air, and caught it. She turned to Cas, a smug smile on her face.

"Told you she could do it," Kevin said, eternally defensive of his two friends. In fact, they were all fiercely protective of each other. The first week Kevin and Dean had met Charlie, the two of them had silently agreed to always protect her. Although, Charlie was probably the most furious among the three of them. Last year after a track meet when Cole had called Dean a "retarded faggot", Cole had to deal with a tornado of punches and and kicks in the form of a very angry red head. Cole ended up with a broken nose and a busted lip, and Charlie walked away with nothing but a cut on her cheek and an in-school suspension. The girl was one of those people who you thought was innocent, but could and would beat you up, and could and would best you at any sport. A living, breathing fireball.

"I hate you," Cas said to Charlie. They both smiled.  
"Five dollars for each of you asses," Cas grumbled. He tried to hand Dean a five dollar bill but Dean just shook his head. The look on the guy's face when Charlie proved him wrong was enough to make his day.

"You all should come over to my house tomorrow. We'll see if you're better than Kevin at soccer," Dean said. Kevin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"You sure you wanna do that? Playing soccer is probably one of the only skills I have besides marathoning movies and playing Call of Duty." Kevin ate his last fry and gathered up everyone else's trash to take away with his own.

"Thanks Kev," Charlie said.

"Is it okay with your parents if you've got friends over?" Cas asked. Dean knew that he was being polite, that he was asking a harmless question, but the word "parents" rang out in his ears. Little did the boy know that Dean's mother was miles away and probably much happier without her ex-husband and failure son.

"If we're just in the backyard my dad won't even know you're there."

Why did reality have to be so painful? Dean knew better than anyone how his father reacted to certain things. He knew more about his father than his father probably knew about himself, and yet even the slightest admittance of information was a sharp punch in his gut. The sad truth was that Dean still wanted his father to be in his life, and to care about him, when it was clear that his father could barely keep himself together let alone another person.

When Dean said this Charlie looked away and Kevin stared off into space at the entrance to the Sonic like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Castiel obviously sensed the slight change in atmosphere, but before he could do anything his friends waved him back to his original table.

"See you guys tomorrow I guess," Cas added as he was pulled back into a void of laughter and noise. There were only three other people in the restaurant, but Dean suddenly felt like he was suffocating. The cacophony of the other table seemed to swirl around him like a howling wind. Dean reached up and itched his ear instead of covering it with his palm. It was either deafening noise or pressing silence, there was no grey space.

"Let's get going. Call it an early night." Kevin stood up and was halfway to the door before Dean could stand up. Kevin was their anchor whenever the three of them were hanging in limbo. Dean knew that if none of them did anything they could have just sat in that booth staring out the window for another hour before he realized how much time had passed. When the three of them were together, time was fluid. Dean felt like he could and would always live in that moment. Like this had happened and was happening at the same time. That even after they left, somewhere he would still be living in those few repeating minutes forever. It was strangely comforting to know that he could step aside from the timeline and live for however long he needed to without having to take time to acknowledge it. Every minute of his life was planned and noted, bottled and boxed to fit orders. He could sit and sit and sit with Kevin and Charlie and feel years pass. He could age and grow and think and then he could be pulled back to life by Kevin and realize that only minutes had passed. Charlie would wander between time with him. Hold his hand as he floated through oblivion within his head. Kevin was the only person he'd met so far that was able to pull him out. The only person that could tell exactly what he needed when he needed it. It was almost painful to know someone inside and out, and have them know you just as well.

"What time is it?"  
Which one of them had asked that? Charlie. Charlie never wore her watch.

"Eight-forty-three," Dean replied. His red watch counted the seconds until the next minute. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Another countdown. Then another and another, and another would come, until the watch would break and stop.

"Let's go home," Kevin repeated. He was right. They probably needed to sleep off what little alcohol was in their system before church tomorrow. And of course, Charlie had to beat the guy Cas's ass at soccer. Girl could probably play three different sports at the same time, but the only sport at school girls could do was volleyball. Maybe senior year they'd let her play with Dean on the baseball team and they'd get rid of one of those punk kids that were only on the team because their dad was some big-shot somewhere. Not to sound like a pretentious prick, but Dean had earned his way on the team through blood sweat and tears. Nobody wanted the kid with trembling hands and flickering eyes to be associated with them. Everyone knew Dean as John Winchester's kid, and everybody who had been in Lawrence for more than a day knew John Winchester's story. He was born here, and his dad, and his dad, and so on and so forth until the dawn of time or something. John's dad disappeared when John was five, and ever since then John acted different. Life went on for John Winchester. He joined the marines. Went through life like everyone else. Then he met Mary Campbell, the perfect girl. Then, like everyone else in town, he married his girl, and settled down with kids. And John and Mary were happy. Until the lights at home went off too early, and the kids became quiet, and one day Mary left with her four year old boy. And John was changed for the second time in his life. Barely talked, never payed attention to anyone. And the rest of the story spiraled. Mary left on Monday. John grew quiet on Wednesday. And by Friday, the kid that stayed with John grew quiet too. And he wouldn't speak to anyone but his brother for a year. And the quiet never really left him. The End. And now Dean needed to work hard unlike most of his class who could get by on smiles and flattery. They all should have been putting forth effort, not just him. All because of his father. His stupid stupid father. Dean hated him. And he loved him. He hated him because John had stigma and the brand of an outcast thrust upon him, and it had traveled to Dean.

But he loved him, because the man who passed on his anger and stubbornness and impatience to him was also the same man who used to tuck him into bed every night and play catch with him in the backyard. And Dean hated himself for hating and loving his father. He should have just picked a side. He wanted to be able to unconditionally love or hate his father, and not to live in this wild in-between. But whenever his father screamed at him or was silent for days or forgot to make any food for a week, Dean also saw the gentleman he put on a pedestal at a young age and never took down. Dean still saw his father as he should have been. It was hard to see John as something to fear when he was passed out on the couch with a half eaten sub sandwich on the table next to him, as he was after Dean dropped of Kevin and Charlie and went home. Dean took the plaid folded-up blanket from the reclining chair next to the couch and gently spread it out on his dad. He took the sandwich into the kitchen and searched the drawers for aluminum foil. Apparently they were out. Dean would have to put it on his shopping list. For now, the roll of saran wrap could do. He wrapped the sandwich in that and tucked it in the fridge next to the dish of lasagna. Then Dean quietly put the paper plate John was eating on in the trash can and tip-toed upstairs. He still heard John's soft snores as he lied in bed with his head pressed to the pillow. Ever impatient, Dean opened his eyes and looked around his room in the dark. Even in the pitch black, he could still see most of his room. He probably should have brushed his teeth and taken a shower, but he would be awake early tomorrow and would do it then. He could feel it in the shake of his hands and the pump of his heart that this was not a night for sleep. This was a night for running and truth-telling and memory-making. But it was going to be a night wasted. It wasn't often that his father let him go out, but if he snuck out again and John found out he'd never be allowed out of the house again.

Dean tried closing his eyes again and tossed and turned under his quilt. It was too hot and too cold at the same time, but the real problem was that Dean's brain wasn't hardwired for sleep. He hated it. A third of his life wasted away when he could be doing anything and everything else. Dean opened his eyes and almost leaped out of bed. He padded back and forth from the door of his room to the edge of his bed, back and forth and back and forth. He counted his steps when he did it. Up to one-hundred, then back again. Up to two hundred then back again, until his legs and feet were aching but his brain was still going at two-hundred miles per hour. The only way to put his mind to sleep was to push his body to his breaking point. And he hated doing that when he was already tired, but it was the only way for him to fall asleep fast. Dean stopped pacing and unlocked his bedroom door with a _click_ that sounded like a canon firing in the silence that cloaked the house. Dean carefully made his way to the stairs in the pitch black of the house and knew he had reached the first step when the soft carpet turned to cool hardwood under his bare feet. He grabbed at the railings on each side of the staircase and tiptoed back down the stairs. Once at the bottom he stole a glance at his father still asleep on the couch and at the clock on the wall next to him. Even in the dark Dean saw that the larger hand was close to the ten. He pressed a button on his watch, lighting up the numbers in a green glow. 9:39 P.M. Dean made sure to be extra quiet while making his way to the door to the basement, avoiding the squeaky floorboards near the kitchen. The basement was creepy as hell when it was dark, but it was cooler than the rest of the house and was a natural environment for Dean to blow off steam. He could pull himself up onto the steel beam supports of the ceiling or run back and forth from concrete wall to concrete wall and his father would never hear a thing, so that's just what he did. He ran from wall to wall and did push up after push up on the concrete floors and never stopped, never wanted to stop. He almost thought that if he kept going and never stopped to breathe or let his heart rest at all that he'd just drop dead right then and there and he'd get to sleep forever. He didn't want to die, not really, but he wanted to sleep so badly. He wanted to feel tired when he closed his eyes at night and not in the morning. He wanted to feel awake when his eyes were open and to be able to go to sleep without having to do all this every other night. He was just tired, and wanted it to all stop, that was all. He wished sometimes that he could just stop.

 **AN: So sorry if this chapter feels weird, and also sorry that I uploaded it so late after publishing the first one. I'll try and get an actual publishing schedule down later, but for now I'm trying to update every weekend/ every other weekend. Literally any kind of critiquing on this would be fantastic! Please if you need to be as blunt about it as possible! Don't hesitate to tell me any flaws in my work as long as it's constructive criticism. I'm always looking for ways to improve on my work. Also I don't know how long/short the chapters will be. The first one was about 1k and this one was closer to 7k so I really don't know at this point. Thank you if you're reading this!**


	3. This Movie is Crap

Dean woke up with his watch beeping in his ear and sunlight streaming in from above him. Dean peered at his watch with flashed 8:00 A.M. Dean was surprised that he had fallen asleep at eleven and was even more surprised that he had been woken up by his alarm-usually he woke up at least an hour before it. What he was not surprised about was the stiffness in his arms and legs and the ache in his shoulders and forearms. Half of it must have been from the exercising last night and half of it must have been from sleeping in the corner of the basement. The basement seemed creepy in the dark and almost desolate and unlivable in the light. To say it was unfinished was an understatement. The floors and walls were concrete and there were large metal pole supports scattered about the floor with exposed pipes and steel support beams on the ceiling. At it's best, the basement was cold and sort of depressing. At it's worst, it was wet from flooding and so terrifying that Dean actually ran away from it like a little kid. He didn't usually come down to the basement, in fact most of the time if he needed to sleep then he'd go to the attic and just do sit ups until he collapsed, but it would have been so hot that Dean wouldn't have been able to go to sleep at all.

Dean slowly moved his legs out from under him and stretched his arms up. So far he could tell the aches and pains would go away as the day went on. Dean braced himself for the inevitability of standing up and the pain it would bring.

Do it quick, like a band-aid. Just-

"Aw, shit."

Dean stood up quickly and knew immediately that his shoulder was screwed. A few days and it would be back to normal. That's what he got for sleeping curled up in the corner of the basement after doing push-ups and planks for an hour. Without stretching before. But he got to sleep, didn't he? And besides, exercise was exercise. It was supposed to be good for you.

Dean stretched his arms out in front of him and rolled his shoulders. Yep, it was the left one that was going to take a while to heal. Going through the motions, Dean showered, brushed his teeth, and changed into church clothes. God it was going to be hot in there in his dress shirt and dress pants. For reasons unknown to Dean, (probably laziness, sorry Jesus) The Winchesters hadn't gone to Sunday church for the past three weeks. Somehow John had decided that they needed to go this week, so here Dean was, dressed up and making a quick something to eat while his dad was upstairs changing and taking a shower.

The slightly-burnt toast popped up with a ding as John Winchester made his way downstairs. Dressed the way they were Dean and John looked almost identical at a glance. Same height, same shit, same pants, same gait. The only difference was their hair. Johns was slightly curled and black-brown, where Dean's was straight and a much lighter brown-blond. Part of him hated that. Inside, Dean knew that he was no better than a carbon-copy of his father. His favorite music? All John's. His jacket? John's. His damn car? It was John's. It was always his father in his head, voice clear as a bell. "Keep going, be the best. Don't give up, boy. You're weak. Is that all you've got? Really?" And most importantly, "Watch your brother. Keep an eye on Sam. Look out for your little brother!"

It was exhausting to know that everything he was now was because John had shaped him that way. It was John who encouraged and later pushed Dean to do baseball, and now look at him, he was the pitcher for his school's team. It was also John who had taught him how to be strong while feeling weak, and how to pick yourself back up and deal with your pain.

"You want one?" Dean lifted up one of the pieces of toast he was smearing butter on. His father didn't say anything-just shook his head, always quiet.

Dean didn't bother with a plate, just sat down at the kitchen table across from his dad.

"How'd it go with Bobby yesterday? What'd you guys do?"

"It was fine. We worked on one of his trucks. It's about ready to be put up."

"Cool," Dean said.

Something else about his father he had recently noticed was how often he used the word "fine". How was your day? Just fine. How do you feel? Fine. How's your project with Bobby coming along? Fine. Like he was too tired to even move out of the grey space. Not good or bad, just. . .fine.

"How was the party?"

Dean finished the first piece of toast and started on the next one.

"It was fine," Dean said, taking that word he had learned to hate and throwing it back at his father. John didn't seem to realize the huge verbal rebellion Dean had just started.

"We went out afterwards. Got home by nine." Dean brushed the crumbs off of his hands and onto the table and swept the rest of the crumbs off the table and into his hands.

"Also met up with one of Charlie's friends and we're gonna hang out again today."

John seemed to become reanimated when he heard that. A wave of fury suddenly passed over Dean. Was his father even interested in what he had to say? He would look him in the eyes and tell him he got a tattoo on his ass and his father probably wouldn't care, so why the sudden sign of life?

"When and where?"

Dean stood up and walked to the kitchen, not answering yet. He brushed the crumbs out of his hands and into the garbage can.

"Probably after lunch or something. We'll just walk around or hang out here," Dean sat back down at the table and fiddled with his ring, trying to discreetly avoid his father's eyes.

John was silent for a while, and Dean could feel John looking at him. It was always hit or miss with his dad; he was either completely accepting and causal or uptight and questioning of everything. With everything he knew about his father, Dean wished he could tell which John he was dealing with.

It was probably only a minute or two of silence but Dean felt like he had been sitting there with his hands folded staring down at his hands for hours.

"Alright. Just tell me when you know where you're going and call me whenever you go anywhere. And-"

"Yeah I know, call if anything changes, text if we're staying later. Don't take the Impala without telling spend too much, don't forget to say please and thank you," Dean grumbled.

John actually smiled at that and Dean felt like the hundreds of eyes that had been watching him had disappeared.

The next two hours before church ticked by with John flipping through channels on the television and Dean cleaning his room, though there wasn't much to clean. The main components of Dean's room was his twin bed shoved in the corner, the bookshelf that towered to the ceiling, and the old desk stationed next to the window. Just like his hideaway in the attic, Dean knew his bedroom inside and out. It hadn't changed much since his childhood, and if you really looked, you could see wisps of a pre-teenage Dean shine through. The same sunshine yellow walls from when Dean was a baby. The glow in the dark stickers of stars and constellations and planets on the ceiling from when Dean wanted to be an astronaut at age six. Baseball and soccer trophies were lined on top of the massive bookshelf going all the way back to when Dean was in second grade. Each shelf marked a new age in Dean's life. The first one was filled with old picture books with faded pages and bent corners from Dean's primary years. He kept them out of sentiment. The second shelf was a window into Dean's middle-school self. A to Z mysteries, 39 clues, The Magic Treehouse, The Boxcar Children. Now the bookshelf was the only cluttered and messy thing in his room. Before he knew it, it was 9:45 and his father was yelling from downstairs to get ready for church. They took John's truck because it was only the two of them and John wanted to drive. Soon Dean was walking up the familiar concrete steps leading to the towering church. Even though Dean didn't consider himself extremely religious, he liked the church, inside and out. It was simple from the front - white and brown with setbacks and ornamentation on it's spire. Sometimes the large white cross that towered above from the ground felt pressing and intimidating, and sometimes it was a saint watching over him.

Dean walked into the church with his father close behind him. It was early but most people were there already. Dean took a seat near the back, where they usually sat, and let his eyes run over the inside of the church once more. Small statues were placed around that altar at the front, and there were the familiar candles lit all around. It was hot outside, and even hotter inside in the old church full of people, but Dean was strangely accustomed to it. The large stained glass windows cast streams of color on the wooden floor below them, and when Dean stood and put his hands on the back of the bench in front of him, there were strands of red and blue and purple light thrown on his hands.

For the first time, Dean noticed things and people in the church. Kevin didn't go and neither did Charlie, which was probably good, as they would be chattering away in "God's House" every Sunday. He saw lots of people from school, and lots of people he saw but didn't know. As he daydreamed of colored glass and fallen saints, he kept scanning the crowd and looking for a comforting familiar face until he found one that he wasn't exactly expecting.

Castiel did say that his father was a priest here, so it shouldn't have been surprising that Cas was sitting up in front with the choirboys and really devout religious people. What was a surprise was how pained and lost he looked. Even though Dean could barely see him as Cas looked around, the despondency was clear on his face. Maybe something had happened last night, or maybe today was just a bad day, or maybe even something else. It would be strange, to be a priest's son and to feel such sadness with the church. Almost too painfully ironic. Dean didn't know why, or how, but he now realized there was much more to Castiel Novak than what met the eye. But then again, wasn't that the same for everyone?

* * *

"Cas! Hey, Cas!" Everyone was pouring out of the church at 12:00, and John had waved Dean off, saying that he could go and find his friends if he wanted. The only problem was that his friends weren't at church and he didn't want to call Kevin and Charlie to come pick him up from church and then go back to his house. So when a shock of black hair that could only belong to one person was spotted in the crowd, Dean raced toward it.

Just before Dean was about to turn around, Cas turned around and smiled a him.

"Hey Winchester! Didn't know you were much of a religious man," Cas said, pushing through the crowd.

As soon as Cas appeared next to him, Dean started making his way to the edge of the street with Cas in tow. Lots of people that went to church tended to mill about talking to other people, so the struggle to get away from the crowd was nothing if it was not arbitrary.

"Do you know if Charlie or Kevin are here?" Cas asked.

Dean finally got out of the crowd with a chorus of "excuse me" and " 'scuse us".

"I'll call em, see where they are or if they wanna do anything before we go to my house," Dean said, pulling out his phone. He quickly typed in the password and called Kevin. The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring Cas offered to call Charlie as well before Kevin finally answered the phone. Dean put it on speaker and held it so Cas could hear what he was saying.

"Hey Kev! When and where do you wanna meet up?" Dean asked.

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm at the dollar store now so I'm gonna go home and tidy up real quick." Was Kevin's muffled, static-y reply.

"I'll call Charlie. Meet in front of school?" Cas said to the phone.

"Oh, hey Cas. Yeah that's great. Why are you talking into Dean's phone?"

"We just finished going to church. You're on speaker," Dean quickly amended.

"No wonder you sound weird. See you guys in say, twenty minutes?"

"Sure," Dean said.

There was a synthesized click as Kevin hung up.

"I'm calling Charlie, I'll tell her to meet us at school at," Cas checked his watch. "Twelve-thirty."

Cas had to call Charlie two times before she finally answered with a groggy "Hello?"

"Hey Bradbury. Meet Cas, Kevin and I at school in twenty. We'll figure out what to do from there," Dean said.

"Mhm. Wait, twenty minutes?" Charlie said. Even through the phone, she sounded suddenly very startled.

"Yeah, twenty," Cas said. He paused for a minute before saying "Charlie, did you just wake up?"

A loud groan and the sound of something falling from the other end of the phone confirmed Cas's question.

"Jesus, how do you sleep for that long?" Cas said absently. He clearly didn't expect Charlie to reply, but she did anyway.

"It's called going to bed at two in the morning," Charlie mumbled. Her reply was accompanied by the sound of rushing water and yet another thing falling.

"Aw shich, damn soupid grass," Charlie slurred.

"Charlie what the hell are you doing?" Cas said with a sigh of irritation.

There was a moment of silence and then quiet shuffling on the phone before Charlie said, "I was brushing my teeth! Twenty minutes to take a shower, pick out clothes, brush my teeth, dry my hair. That's not even including time to drive to school."

"If you're not there at exactly twelve thirty we're stealing your cat," Dean giggled.

More sounds of running water and things being pushed over were heard before Charlie's final words of "You suck Dean."

Cas put away his phone and started across the street, leaving Dean to follow in his wake.

More sounds of running water and things being pushed over were heard before Charlie's final words of "You suck Dean."

Cas put away his phone and started across the street, leaving Dean to follow in his wake.

They quickly darted across the street and started walking towards to school. Dean hadn't been near the school for a while, because the horrible place was a reminder that he'd have to go back at some point. The school was somewhat close to the church, just as everything was somewhat close together. Buildings were placed in a sort-of walking distance to one another, just close enough to walk to and just far enough that you'd want to drive to each of them. Except for of course the strip of fast food places. That was closer to the highway so road-tripers driving past had easy access. It was strangely amazing how every time Dean would stop by one of the fast-food places, there would be at least one family there that was obviously traveling.

In between the walk from the church to the high school, there was the dollar store, a small grocery store called "Snows" that had almost everything one would need to "survive" the outskirts of Lawrence Kansas. The only other grocery store nearby was a Walmart and Target twenty minutes away, closer to the "big city" parts of Lawrence.

When he and Cas walked past the dollar store, which was called actually called "5 and under", Kevin happened to be walking out, a plastic bag in each hand.

"Oh hey guys, check it out," Kevin said setting one of the bags on the sidewalk and rummaging in it for a second.

He pulled out a DVD, "Return of the Dragon Empress" on it. The package had a picture of a Chinese woman in combat gear brandishing a sword. Behind her an army of skeletal warriors were lined in fighting position.

"Shit, they have that here?" Dean said.

Kevin put the DVD back into the plastic bag and picked the bag up again.

"Sadly they don't. I'm renting this for today," Kevin explained. He walked in the direction of the parking lot behind the dollar store and fished out his keys from his back pocket.

"We have to watch it, like, tonight," Dean said.

"What's so special about it?" Cas asked aloud. Kevin and Dean looked at him like he had sprouted another head.

"Don't get me wrong, it seems really cool movie but you guys seem way too hyped about it. Didn't that series get really shit ratings?" Cas amended.

Kevin reached his car-well, his mom's car- and Dean opened the trunk for him as soon as Kevin pressed the button to unlock the toyota.

"Thanks. I'm gonna drive back to my house and walk from there to the school," Kevin said while walking to the driver's side door.

"See you there," Cas said.

They stepped out of the way of the car and Kevin was almost finished pulling out of the parking lot before he stopped and stuck his head out of the window and turned around to face Dean and Cas.

"Did any of you call Charlie to tell her we're meeting outside school?" He said.

"We did," Cas said. "She woke up like, a minute before we called her."

"Well, we might have woken her up by calling her but to be fair it was twelve o'clock," Dean said.

"We might have. Maybe. Sort of," Cas added. Kevin just smiled and shook his head before pulling away. Charlie and Kevin lived close to what Dean called in his head the "town". There was the church, school, dollar store, grocery store, a couple restaurants, a playground, a park, a baseball field, a soccer field, and a few other small stores and businesses grouped together and there were houses squashed in between the buildings. Ten miles off there was a small cluster of two dozen houses, each separated by at least twenty yards of open field. Why was there so much open space? Why were those houses farther off? Why did you have to drive to these houses to get to the highway? Things Dean asked himself every time he needed to go anywhere.

Charlie and Kevin lived in the midst of the "town", with a short drive here and a medium walk there to get anywhere they pleased. Unfortunately for Dean, John and Mary liked the space and wanted to be even further away from all the hustle and bustle. At least, that's what John used to say when Dean asked him why they lived so far away when Dean was little. All it meant now was a fifteen or more minute drive whenever Dean wanted to meet up with his friends. He didn't know where Cas lived, but if Dean's past luck was anything to go by, Cas would live near Kevin and Charlie.

It only occurred to Dean then that he never told his father they were coming to his house and now Dean had no means of getting home quick, and if he called his dad, well, John "sure as hell wasn't chauffeuring them all over the place, no he was not."

Dean and Cas walked the next few minutes in silence, not because they were awkward but because there really wasn't anything to talk about. Dean had known Cas for a while- there were small resurfacing memories of a group of children running about playing tag at school and a boy with bright blue eyes being there. Dean could now see Cas in his memories, not putting him there but only now realizing that Cas had been there all along. It was the same feeling as when you suddenly remember something and everything for a second becomes just a little clearer. Dean's memories with Cas just made Cas a little clearer, that was all.

"Really, what is so special about that movie-that movie series- that you guys are so excited about?" Cas finally asked when they rounded a corner and the high school came into view.

"The first one came out when we were probably all fourteen or so, and the second when we were sixteen. When I became close friends with Charlie and Kevin we just ended up talking and saying how we watched them both," Dean said. He could feel himself launching into a story already.

"We all knew the movies weren't the best, but there were good points and it was just this sort of thing. This unspoken thing about it that made it special even if the movies sucked," Dean continued. Cas was nodding his head, really listening.

"Probably a month or two ago the third and final movie came out and for whatever reason it was good. Like really good compared to the two star ratings. Everywhere people were giving to four or five stars so we were all like, what is up with this movie?"

"So we went to the theaters and asked about it because it was playing everywhere, and the theater said they weren't playing the movie because because it ' went against the theater's moral code'."

Cas frowned. "How the hell does a movie become against a building's moral code? What even is that?"

Dean nodded his head, excited that he was reliving the moment again. He hadn't even thought about the movie for weeks until now, until Kevin got a hold of it.

"I don't know. Charlie was super upset about it because, well, you know Charlie. That's how she is."

Cas kept nodding along.

"So after it goes on DVD we look for it all over and we can't get it, and we sure as hell aren't ordering it online because the nearest redbox place or whatever is really far away and it would cost twenty extra dollars to get it, so we've been waiting and hoping it would pop up and now Kevin has a copy of it!"

By the time Dean finished, they were in front of the school and to their utter disbelief, Charlie was sitting on the steps. Her hair was visibly wet and tied in a bun.

"Beat you," She said.

"How? You woke up half an hour ago, how did you get here so fast?"Cas said.

Charlie stood up and leaned against the slanted metal railing on the steps.

"Did you forget that I live like, across the street?"

Charlie swung her arm to the right in the general direction of her house. Across the street from the school there was the junior high school and a bunch of houses. Though Charlie didn't live directly across the street from the high school, she was really close. Ten houses down from the junior high building was Charlie's house, recognizable even from here with it's vast amount of colorful flowers in the front yard and that blue painted rocking chair on the porch.

"Hypothetically, what would happen if I did, for example, completely forget where you lived?" Dean said in mock uncertainty.

"I'd kidnap you and sell you to the circus," Charlie said. "I hear they're in need of smart-ass little boys with a hero complex."

"Good thing I obviously know exactly where you live, because I totally didn't forget. Nope," Dean said.

"He might have," Cas interjected.

Charlie laughed.

"Did anyone call Kevin and see if he was meeting us?" Charlie asked. She swung her backpack around and was already taking out her phone when Cas said, "We did. He's dropping off some stuff at his house and then walking here.

"He got 'Return of the Dragon Empress' from five-below," Dean said.

Charlie's eyes widened as she looked back and forth from Dean to Cas to see if they were lying.

"Why the hell does the five below carry it but not the theater?"

Cas shrugged. "This is the first time I've heard of the thing so don't look at me."

Charlie proceeded to stare at him.

"You've never?"

Cas threw up his arms and looked at the sky. "Why so you all keep asking me this? Where am I supposed to know this movie from?"

Cas turned his back to them and continued to stare at the sky as if it had the answer to his rhetorical question.

"Kevin's here," Dean said. Charlie and Cas turned around. Kevin was walking up to the school from the other side of the road, and when he got close to them he quickly jogged across the street.

"You were originally closest here, and you set the time but you're still late." Charlie held her fist out to Kevin and he bumped it with the hand that wasn't holding the DVD.

Charlie reached for the case and Kevin handed it to her while nodding his head up to Dean and Cas to acknowledge them again.

"We have to watch it like, right now."

"Well seeing as I have no way to get back to my house so we can do anything there, I'm up for it. Reschedule the soccer game or something?" Dean suggested.

"Oh!" Charlie jumped up and down a few times. "We should watch the first two and then the last one 'cause Cas hasn't seen them!"

"Damn just say so! You gave me a heart attack!" Kevin said, his hand pressed against his chest.

"If you do I am not paying for your medical bills," Charlie said, handing the case back to him.

"I'm up for it," Cas said.

"My house is close," Charlie hinted.

"How could we forget?" Dean sniggered, although not in a maleficent way.

Charlie fake-glared at him and slid her sunglasses down for effect.

"I don't know Dean! How could you forget where one of your two closest friends lived?"

A few damp strands of hair fell into her face but she made no effort to move them away.

"I didn't forget, it just didn't cross my mind when we were taking into account how you got here!" He protested. Charlie broke her stare at him and grinned, and started walking to her house.

"There's popcorn on sale at five below if you don't have any. I can run and grab some," Kevin said, pointing in the direction of the store.

"Oh yeah, we actually ate the last of it last week."

"Ah!" Dean jumped at the opportunity. "How can you forget about popcorn when watching a movie marathon?"

Charlie turned around and walked backwards for a while just to roll her eyes and say, "That's different from forgetting where someone lives! Popcorn is a detail."  
"Not when watching movies," Dean argued.

"Especially not when there's a movie marathon," Cas said. Dean was surprised how easily they all talked with him and how Cas immediately backed him up. Usually when they hung out with someone else it was all awkward jokes and polite smiles, but clearly Cas was used to hanging out with Charlie and therefore with the rest of them. It just didn't occur to Dean exactly how well he fit until that moment.

Charlie stopped to take off her backpack and handed Kevin five dollars.

"For the popcorn because someone won't shut up about it." She stared at Dean and Cas and they pretended to be shocked.

"If that doesn't cover it then I'll fight them. It's not called five-below for nothing," Charlie said. Kevin took the money and went running in the opposite direction to the five below.

* * *

"Yes! Yes I knew it, I knew it! You all called me crazy but I knew it!"

All four of them were squeezed onto Charlie's couch in front of the T.V. Charlie was on the far right with Kevin and Dean in the middle and Cas on the far left. They were on the last movie when Charlie was had almost thrown the bowl of popcorn at the TV. The main character, the dragon empress Wu had just died after finally getting with this other girl they called Cherry. The premise was that Emi's tomb was unearthed in the first movie and with it her army of clay soldiers. A band of archaeologists and linguists went to her tomb and when accidentally waking her, they also woke this evil demigod and his legion of soldiers. Chaos ensued.

"This is still horribly historically inaccurate," Cas protested. He picked up a stray piece of popcorn on the couch and threw it at Charlie.

"I don't care! Why was this not a media blowup? Oh my god, _now_ I see why the theater didn't show it," Charlie said. She was still standing off to the side of the T.V.

"Why? Because it sucks?" Kevin picked up the bowl of popcorn and took a handful of it before setting it down again.

"Because we live in Kansas and there is three seconds of gay in the movie." Charlie walked around the couch and stood behind it, too jumpy too sit down at watch.

"You know, a real Chinese Empress probably wouldn't be nineteen years old," Dean said.

"There were actually only like, what, three Empresses that held power when China wasn't broken up in the entire history of China," Cas said.

"In like, the entire history of China. Shut up it's a movie!" Charlie laughed.

Cas threw more popcorn at her and she swatted it away.

"You know-" Kevin didn't even get the rest of the sentence out.

"Shhhh!"

Dean could hear Charlie pacing behind the couch. She was sitting down, standing up, pacing, and sitting back down again.

Now Cherry and her band of people were fighting off the evil soldiers by themselves since the clay warriors had turned back to statues. The demigod was making his way to the Empress's body when there was a loud _crack_.

"Oh my god _no_." Cas said in disbelief.

" _Yes_!" Dean said.

"What the hell is happening?" Kevin asked.

"Dude, you're the one who watched these movies a hundred times over. Why are you confused when I'm not?" Cas looked at Kevin by leaning off the back of the couch.

"Because those I've watched a hundred times!" Kevin protested. "I need to watch them more so I can understand them."

" _Shut up_ , it's happening!"

Cherry had snuck off to the demigod's shrine and had taken a can of gasoline from her car with her. She poured the gas on the shrine and threw as many dead sticks and tree limbs on it as possible. Then she pulled out a lighter and set the shrine ablaze.

" _No_!" Charlie gasped.

"Her weird un-dead empress crush girlfriend just _died,_ how is she okay to do this?" Kevin wondered.

"Just let it happen man. Just let it happen," Dean said. He was actually tapping his leg in anticipation and realized that since Cas's knee was touching his he was shaking Cas's leg as well.

As the old shrine burnt, the demigod also started to burn away and die until neither the demigod or the shrine was left standing.

"Isn't she studying to do something with preserving ancient artifacts? Why would she burn up a shrine? It's a historical artifact," Dean mumbled.

"Well would you burn the shrine or let the dude destroy the world?" Cas said.

"Fair enough."

They watched in silence for the next few minutes before the end credits rolled.

"That was actually better than the first two. Still shit, but better," Dean said. He picked up the popcorn bowl and went to the kitchen. He dumped the last handful of popcorn in the trash and put the bowl in the sink and grabbed his phone from where he left it on the counter. He texted his dad what they were doing and informed him of updates after every movie. His dad only sent one thing since Dean told him they were watching the last movie.

 _Dad: Text me when you need me to pick you up. What do you want for dinner?_

Dean thought about it for a second before replying.

 _You: Done watching the movie. Can you pick me up from Charlie's house? I can get something from Snow's for dinner_

 _Dad: Sounds good. Going to pick you up now_

"I still don't see why they're so good? I seethe appeal of the concept but it's all just so ridiculous."

Dean walked back into the living room as Charlie, Kevin, and Cas were arguing about the movies.

"Okay, but you did say you saw the appeal. It's like the appeal of a cheap movie. You have to go in without high standards. If you know what you're gonna get then you won't be disappointed," Kevin said.

"So lower your expectations so shit movies look like good movies?" Cas was on his hands and knees picking up popcorn off the floor by the couch and setting it in a pile on the floor. Charlie was angrily sweeping up the popcorn and Kevin was lying on the couch with the other popcorn bowl resting on his chest.

"I've gotta head out. My dad's picking me up soon and I need to stop at Snows and get dinner," Dean said.

Charlie swept up the last of the popcorn and stopped on her way to the kitchen to throw it out.

"Aw, that sucks. You wanna hang out tomorrow maybe? All four of us?" When she said the last part she looked at Kevin and Cas. Cas looked almost surprised that she wanted him to hang out with them again.

"I've got work tomorrow and next week up until Friday," Dean groaned. He forgot. Every other week he'd spend a few day's with his uncle Bobby and help him at his shop. And besides that he needed to drive out to Walmart and work there on Mondays. They paid him nine dollars an hour but _god_ was it worth it to drive half an hour there and back? And to wake up at six in the morning? Not to mention the crappy coworkers and the even crappier customers.

"I've gotta go to New Mexico with my mom on Thursday to visit some relatives," Kevin said, sitting up from his lying position on the couch.

"Do you guys not want to enjoy the last few weeks of summer?" Charlie pouted. She went to the kitchen to dump the popcorn and the crumbs she swept up and came back with a can of orange soda in her hand.

"You have to stop drinking that man," Cas said. "How do you not have any cavities? All you do is eat candy and drink soda." He was still sitting in between the couch and the coffee table.

"Maybe go just loves me," Charlie said. They all joked and laughed for a minute more before Dean really needed to go and took one last look around the living room before he waked out Charlie's door.

The couch, the coffee table, and the love seat and corner table shoved next to the window all matched and were evidence of Charlie's aunt Ellen's place in the house. Bits and pieces of Charlie and her cousin Jo were always scattered about in different places. If there were dishes left in the drying rack, that was Jo. DVD cases and controllers and headsets piled on the table, Charlie. Everything in the house had obviously started with just Ellen there. Dean could almost picture a bare living room with nothing but furniture and a couple of pictures on the walls. But Charlie and Jo grew up in this house, and their personalities wormed their way through each room in the house.

There was Jo's chess set, forever left in the middle of a game on the corner table. Always one of Charlie's books was left open somewhere in the living room or kitchen. There was always a glass in the kitchen left somewhere from where Ellen set it down and never picked it up again. Always a pile of papers or folded laundry on the kitchen table that would be moved aside to eat and then places back on it. These small things were what made Charlie's house her home. These things were what made her home feel like one to Dean, just as his did for her and Kevin's did for the both of them and so on and so on.

And for the first time in a long time, Dean had a new person to get to know and learn about that was willing to do the same for him, and here that person was, already sitting in what felt like Dean's second home. He was interested in what Cas was like. What were his hopes, dreams, fears, quirks? What did he so when sad or happy or nervous? Would Dean one day feel at home when he was with Cas, as he did with Charlie and Kevin? He'd gotten to know the other boy for a day and was already itching to know more about him.

Castiel Novak, the preacher's son. Novak, the track team endurance runner. Castiel, the boy who befriended Charlie. Cas, the boy who watched crap movies and threw popcorn and crossed his arms when he was irritated.

As Dean closed Charlie's front door, a new, uncharted and untouched metaphorical one opened.

 **AN: Oh my god I'm so so sorry for the long wait for this. If anyone is still actually reading this, thank you so much for sticking with the story. I'm not going to make up an excuse, just that one more day without writing turned into a week, and then two, and three, and . . . yeah. Again please give me feedback on this chapter! What kind of scenes do you like, what length of chapters do you guys like? Tips and criticism are very much appreciated! Thank you so much if you're reading this. I'll try and update more frequently. Ciao!**


	4. School is Absolutely Disgusting

Summer came to an abrupt and world shattering end after Dean was asked to be the referee yet another little league game. He could have denied it, it being the second to last day and all, but they paid him almost a hundred dollars each game. Who could say no to that?

After workiing his way through the game and being paid, Dean drove back home feeling wind in his face and the thrum of his car under his fingertips. It was one of those nights where if you were alone, you had such a deep and profound longing to spend time with others that it almost ate you up.

Dean drove around for a while, aimless and free before finally heading home. He spend the next hour on his phone before going to bed without much struggle.

It was when he woke up that everything began. He'd forgotten to close the shades on his windows so the sun was streaming in when he woke up. The sun however, wasn't the only unwelcome visitor in his room. His father was sitting on the bed next to him, just like he did when Dean was a little kid. Dean immidiatly sat up and scooted to the headboard of his bed. Something was very very wrong. His father never did this, never even came into his room, and now here he was sitting down with him on Dean's bed.

"What's happened?" Dean said quietly. His father didn't look sad, so nothing super horrible had happened, hopefully. He sort of just looked numb and unregistered. More so than usual.

That was when his dad said that, more or less, Sam was going to be living with them indefinetly. Probably at least a year. Words like "custody" and "job" and "release" were thrown around but Dean really didn't hear a thing.

Sam was coming back home. But this wasn't his home anymore. It was the place he came to a few times a year to see his father and brother. Other than this, the only thing Dean could think of was how could Mom do this?

Dean thought the only time he and Sam would ever seen each other were those odd visits, and when they grew up they'd grow apart, but he never would have wanted it like this. His mother had basically given up on Sam because she needed to move around for work and didn't want to take him with. She thought it would be better that he stay in one place, so she gave up.

No matter what his dad said, no matter how hard he tried to explain it, Dean still felt crushed that Mary would just give up. He was exstatic that he would be able to live with his brother again, but he was also more angry than he had ever been, because you were not allowed to give up on people. Especially family, especially your child.

Dean was afraid that is he opened his mouth, all those hateful and scary things would spill out, so he just smiled and nodded at his father until he went away.

When John did finally leave, Dean gently shut his door, locked it, and closed his curtains so the room turned to black. All he could do was lie on his bed. He even put his hands behind his back, though it was uncomfortable. He didn't trust his voice or his hands. If he let them roam free now, they'd spill hate and destroy everythign they could. So he lied there and lied there and lied there, in the ever present silence.

Eventually he went to sleep again, woke up, told Charlie and Kevin and Cas what had happened, and continued through the motions. It wasn't how the last day of summer vacation was supposed to be spent, but Dean didn't care. In three seconds it seemed that his body and mind had did a 180. He felt sick, and he felt ashamed that he felt that way. After all, he was living with his brother again. He should be happy. And he was, he was, but there was the ever pressing fact that Mary just gave Sam away. What did Sam feel about all this? It was supposed to be for her work but how long would that last? Soon Dean would be off to college and then Sam would be stuck here, just like Dean was. Although Sam was smart. Dean wanted to go to college to get out of this city, where Sam wanted to continue his education because he loved learning. Already at fourteen years old he was set on becoming a lawyer.

Dean tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fall asleep again despite the fact it was three o'clock in the afternoon. He stayed in bed for the rest of the day and only got up once to arrange his schoolbag for tomorrow.

* * *

Dean spent the first month of school fairly quiet and apprehensive. Sam was coming to live with them in October, and Dean was horribly worried about what would happen. Sam wouldn't fit in here, he never would. Everyone here was brash and loud and they always pretended. The community behaved like a small town whenever new gossip or new people came in. They were sharks and Dean had learned over the years to deal with everyone, especially because he was John Winchester's Son. And now Sam, on top of everything, would have to learn about living here. Charlie informed him that this was called "overreacting" on Dean's part and everyone felt like an outcast when they moved to a different place. But that didn't stop Dean from watching Sam's every step when he finally moved. Even after two weeks here, Dean was still worried about him. He still saw Sam as his baby brother that would run around the kitchen with his toy airplane. Even though Sam was only a few inches shorter than Dean and was fourteen, Dean still saw his kid brother.

"Dean, come on, I'm fourteen year's old. I can handle a night by myself," Sam grumbled as Dean grabbed his water bottle off the kitchen counter.

"Are you sure you won't come?" Dean pleaded.

Sam put down his pencil and gestured to his math book.

"Dean they don't call it 'AP Geometry' for nothing. I need to finish this up so I don't have any more homework for the rest of the week. Besides, it'd be weird," Sam said.

Dean shrugged his shoulders but really he was worried for the kid. He was taking three AP classes freshman year, Math, English and Science. Of course Sam loved science and English, but the advanced math course seemed to already be taking it's toll on Sam. Everything else he brought home he easily sped through, but he always stressed over his math.

"I'll help you afterwards. Try and make sense of all these weird ass shapes. And it wouldn't be weird. Kevin, Charlie, Cas, they love you," Dean said, ruffling up Sam's hair while Sam swatted him away.

"Stop it. I'm trying to focus," Sam complained.

"Whatever you say Sammy," Dean said.

"It's Sam."

Dean stepped out the door and drove to the baseball field. The playing season would start in March for most high school teams, but Dean's team started practicing right as school started. Because of this, it was hard for Dean to convince himself that he wasn't going to practice but in fact just meeting his friends there.

Dean walked onto the grassy field to find Cas and Kevin already there.

"Why did you call an emergency meeting?" Dean asked.

"More importantly, why are the two of you acting like an 'emergency meeting' is a normal and acceptable thing to do?" Cas said.

Kevin hushed Cas and toyed with his string necklace.

"I wanna do something for Charlie because it's sort of a rough spot in the month for her and all," Kevin said awkwardly. He wound and unwound the slack of his necklace around his fingers over and over.

"You say that like she's a werewolf. Why would she be having troubles every month?" Cas said.

Dean playfully shoved Cas.

"You're a dumb ass. Think about something that women might go through on a monthly basis that men don't," Dean said.

It took a second before Cas's expression changed from a state of confusion to what Dean could only describe as enlightenment.

"Oh!"

Kevin stopped winding his necklace and laughed.

"So you're thinking like some kind of care package?" Cas said.

"Basically get a basket and fill it with goodies and food," Kevin said.

"Couldn't you have just texted this to us?" Dean said.

Kevin blinked once, twice, and then gave up and finger gunned him.

"We could get the stuff now? Then you wouldn't have made the drive out here in vain," Cas suggested.

"Yeah!"

Dean pointed at Kevin. "Don't think this changes the fact that you could have just texted me," Dean said.

"It just escaped me at the time. Shall we?" Kevin was already walking away with Cas.

They ended up leaving the dollar store with a blue bucket with a jar of nutella, a bag of dark and milk chocolate, a few face masks, a bottle of advil, a pack of hand warmers, and copy of _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ that they were all sure was some sort of bootleg copy for the price it was at. (Six dollars! Kevin still joked about suing them because "It's called five and below Cas! Six is not below!")

"Here here, we gotta write something on it." Cas pulled out a sharpie from his back pocket and scribbled on the bucket.

"What'd you write?" Dean asked. Kevin turned to face him as he was carrying the bucket, and Dean laughed.

"Nice. _We heard you've got a visit from Aunt Flo. From Cas, Kevin, and Dean._ Simple. Funny. Dare I say eloquent?" Dean said.

"You may say eloquent, thank you m'lady," Cas said. He tipped a pretend hat at Dean.

"Why do I have to be the lady?" Dean sarcastically complained.

"Because you cheekily used the word eloquent in an actual sentence," Kevin said.

"Fair point," Dean said.

"Hey not to be a downer, but it's six o' clock and I gotta get going. My mom'll literally kill me if I'm out past dark," Cas said.

"Yeah, and I've gotta drive home. Kev, can you give the stuff to Charlie?" Dean asked. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket for his car keys and found them.

"Course. See you guy's at lunch tomorrow?"

"Course. Bye Cas." Dean walked in the direction of his car and waved at Cas and Kevin. They waved back, talked to each other for a bit, and then went their seprate ways. Dean stood there a while watching Kevin walk across the street and Cas kick at stones as he walked. Times like this, moments like these, they made Dean wish he could paint or take pictures really well like Cas did. There were places, things, moments, that seemed designed to be captured, and this was one of them. Barren street, sunset in the back, and Cas's silhouette the only thing alive and moving.

Dean hesitated a bit and then walked to the parking lot by the baseball field and got in his car.

 _Sammy: wht u want for dinner? Spaghetti w broccoli or spinach grilled cheese?_

Dean started up the car and texted him back before pulling out of the parking lot and driving home.

 _Spaghetti, skip the green shit._

Dean was on the highway when he heard another alert.

 _Sammy: You tolerate broccoli and you'll love it once I shove butter on it._

Dean smiled at his phone and drove just a bit quicker. It was almost fully dark now, the last of the colors fading from the sun. The sky was dark blue with faint outlines of clouds, and the moon was already peaking out from behind one of them. It was a quiet night. There were the birds that always sang at sunset, and the rumble of the Impala, but other than that it was a good kind of quiet. Dean reached into the worn cardboard box resting on the passenger seat and pulled out a cassette tape. With static and groan the player started up an old song that Dean knew by heart.

 _To be the bad man_

 _To be the sad man_

 _Behind blue eyes_

Dean turned up the volume and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for the rest of the drive home.

He pulled into the driveway to find Sam sitting down in the grass in front of the house with a book in his lap and holding a highlighter between his teeth.

"What's the book?" Dean locked the car doors and walked over to Sam.

Sam took the highlighter out of his mouth and made a few marks in the book.

"It's _To Kill a Mockingbird._ We're supposed to take note of things that support the theme to write an essay about it."

"Why're you outside?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at him, the darkening sky, and then at his watch. He picked up his book and started walking to the front door.

"It's stuffy inside 'cause Dad's making garlic bread."

"Ah."

Dean followed Sam inside and was hit with a wave of heat and the smell of spices.

"Smell's good dad. Five stars," Dean said. He locked the front door and moseyed over to the kitchen. A pot of red sauce was bubbling and another pot was full of pasta.

"You have to eat the vegetables if you want to eat anything else,"Sam said. He seemed to have disappeared once they walked into the house and reappeared right behind Dean. Sam nodded to a plate on the table.

"Vegetables are rabbit foods. Like salad." Dean pulled three plates down from a cabinet and laid them out on the counter next to the pots.

"You need them to survive or you'll be old and fat," Sam said.

Dean grumpily put a few spoonfuls of broccoli on top of his spaghetti and glared at Sam.

"Happy?" He he said.

Sam sat down next to him and smiled. "Very."

They talked for a while of sports, school, work. It was ordinary and safe, and there was finally something surrounding Dean other than silence.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from washing the dishes and to his father.

"Sorry, what'd you say?"

John set another plate down on the kitchen counter next to Dean.

"I asked what you and your friends are doing for homecoming," John said.

"Oh I don't know. Probably just go with friends this year."

"I'm going with Jess, Sarah, and Brady," Sam said.

" _Neither_ of you have dates? Where did I go wrong raising you," John muttered.

"I thought you said I couldn't date until I was a sophomore!" Sam exclaimed.

"Of course but I thought that in the mean time you'd at least have your eye on a girl." John pulled out a beer from the fridge.

"Well I mean I kinda like Sarah but we're good friends and school's more important," Sam mumbled. "What about you Dean?"

He shrugged and kept washing the dishes.

"Didn't you used to go out with a girl?" Sam asked.

"Used to. Didn't work out with me and Lisa." Dean put a plate in the drying rack.

"Why?"

"Does it matter? We broke up," Dean said.

"Sam stop pestering your brother," John said.

Sam rolled his eyes behind John's back but said, "Yes sir."

See now it was Sam's fault because he started it. It wasn't Dean's fault now that he was thinking of Lisa.

They hadn't fought much, and neither of them cheater or did anything large. They just sort of fell out of love. He missed her sure, but he wouldn't take her back now. He missed being happy with her; He missed the past. And he guessed that she'd always be there, and that he could never take back loving her. Was it possible to love someone still but not want them? He loved Charlie and Kevin and Cas, but sort of different than Lisa. Not because they were friends and she was his girlfriend, but because of something else. He loved what it was like to be in love with her, and there would always be a Dean Winchester that was in love with her, but that was in the past.

And still when he went to bed, he kept thinking of her. More why they broke up, but still of her. After half an hour of tossing and turning he still couldn't come up with an answer to satisfy himself. He just ended up feeling uncomfortable and and unable to sleep.

Dean turned over again and looked at the clock on his bedside table and groaned. Twelve o'clock. He had to wake up in six hours. Thursday was gonna be a rough day. He kept turning around and struggling until he finally felt his eyes become heavier and his body give up and give in.

* * *

Dean pulled a squished paper bag out of his backpack and threw it on the lunch table.

"What's the matter grumpy-pants?" Cas asked.

Dean put his head on the table and groaned. "I got like three hours of sleep and I had to sit through a math double period first thing.

Dean lazily pick up his bag and dumped the contents onto the table.

"I'm almost too tired to eat," he complained.

Charlie flicked a grape off the table. "That's a shame, I guess we'll have to commandeer your-"

"I said I was _almost_ too tired," Dean said with a smile. He took an apple out of the bag and a sad looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Say what you want, I was out of time and it's better than what they give you here." Dean gestured to Charlie's lunch.

"It's probably radioactive," Kevin said.

Charlie picked up the grilled cheese and looked at it from all angels.

"Well if it is then I'll become a superhero, and if not then the toxic waste will build my immune system." She took a bite of it and feigned choking.

"If you do die you still have to come to SND comic-con with me." Kevin picked at the last of his food in his thermos and put it in his backpack.

"Great. I can be a ghost instead of Princess Leia," Charlie said.

"I thought you _liked_ Princess Leia?" Cas exclaimed.

Charlie took another bite of the sandwich and said, "Of course I do, I love her, but be cosplayed star wars last con. But _s_ _omeone_ is opposed to doing Doctor Who so we're doing star wars again," Charlie said glaring at Dean.

"I don't want to wear a bow tie or a fez. No matter what Matt Smith says those are not cool, they look terrible," Dean said.

"Everything looks great with Matt Smith though, maybe even double flannel," Cas said.

"What are you talking about?" Dean ate the rest of his sandwich and looked at Cas.

"Dean, honey, have you looked in a mirror today?" Cas giggled.

This is either an insult or the start of a pickup line and I'm not sure I'd want either," Dean said.

"You're wearing two flannels underneath your jacket man. Not one. One is red and one is green," Kevin said.

Dean looked at his jacket and discovered they were right.

"You know what I don't care at this point." He started eating his apple. "I so so _so_ tired I can't care about anything other than food and sleep."

"Seriously guys we need to find out what we're doing for 's gotta be good, it's Cas's first one!" Charlie insisted.

"How about we all go as different regenerations of the Doctor?" Dean said.

"We did that one last year too. Come _on_ Dean, be straight with me!" Charlie said.

"I'm always straight with you, it was a good idea," Dena grumbled. He stood up to throw away the apple core as Kevin said, "That's one of the biggest lies you've ever told."

Dean chucked the apple in a trash bin by the entrance to the cafeteria when a over-energetic fourteen year old jumped towards him.

"Oh my god Dean Dean, guess what!"

"Hey Sammy." Dean started walking back to his table and Sam followed him. "What's got you so riled up?"

"I'm gonna ask Sarah to the homecoming dance!"

"Really? Bold move," Dean said.

"So how do I do it?"

Dean sat back down at the table and Sam waved hi to Charlie, Kevin, and Cas.

"What do you mean how?"

"Well, you've asked out loads of girls, right? How do you do it?" Sam pleaded.

Dean scratched the back of his neck and shifted around in his seat.

"Well, I don't really know, I mean it's sort of-"

Kevin gaped at the two of them and started laughing.

"Wait, Sam, you're trying to get some girl and you came to Dean for professional help?"

"Well, yeah." Sam furrowed his eyebrows and looked from Dean to Kevin.

"Sam if you want any real help you should ask Charlie," Dean said.

"Yeah," Cas said.

Charlie tipped an imaginary hat at Sam. "It's true."

"You''l have to excuse the references she makes. The only time she get's girls is at comic-con or on spring break," Kevin said.

Charlie playfully hit him on the head. "Pay no attention to him, even if it's true."

"C'mon guys, cut to the chase. Homecoming's in two weeks and I'm guessing that's your deadline, right Sam?" Cas said.

Sam brushed his hair over his ear and nodded.

"Okay okay," Charlie said. "So first rule of talking to girls for something serious like this is that you have to _know_ the person first. . ."

For the rest of the lunch period Charlie taught Sam everything she knew about girls while Dean tried to sleep, Kevin wrote an essay, and Cas read a book under the table.

The next few classes weren't so bad, partially because Dean was still running Cas's "Everything looks great on Matt Smith" comment over in his head and he didn't pay too much attention to the teacher. He would flick his pencil over his fingers and pretend he was playing with those words. The other reason the classes were better was because Charlie was in one of them (Science) and she brought him a thermos of smuggled coffee from the teachers lounge. It tasted watery and weird but it did the trick, and Dean for a minute remembered sitting in a big hospital in Springfield, pacing in the waiting room. He remembered with his hands jittery with watery coffee and his brother bounding out of those big white double doors on crutches with an orange cast on his foot and a smile on his face. Dean sipped his watery thermos coffee during science and thought about hospitals and black hair instead of the molecular structure of gallium.

Dean was jolted out of his half-daydream with the sharp ring of the bell and the familiar scuffle of the students getting ready to leave school.

Dean shoved his textbook into his bag and crept out of the room with the few students that managed to escape the lab before yelled that they had a minute left of class.

Dean hurried down the halls, the stairs, and into the parking lot. He walked to where he parked The Impala and took a deep breath.

"God am I glad to see you." Dean threw his backpack in the passenger seat and leaned against the side of the door for a while. The warm summer air seemed like a distant memory even though it was only a month ago that the average outfit consisted of shorts, tank tops, and chlorine drenched hair. The trees were in peak fall transformation with red and orange covering the horizon. Even the air felt changed. Each breath in felt like pure crisp oxygen instead of the hot, dryness of summer.

Dean opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat, a combination of movements that was so easy and ingrained that Dean could do it in his sleep. It was the easiest thing in the world, feeling the smoothness of the steering wheel as Dean drove out on the road. He could do it backwards and forwards and backwards again, even though it took him a month the learn how to get a feel for everything in the car.

Actually, he didn't even think she could be called just "a car" anymore. It felt like she was alive, and if there was another way to say it he would, but alive was the only word he could use. There was something almost magical about the unique squeak of her doors that Dean could never fix, the purr of her engine, the sound of her wheels on asphalt. It was almost intoxicating. Even time seemed to pass differently when he was driving. The fifteen minute drive home seemed to pass in seconds, and Dean felt a twinge of disappointment when he pulled into the driveway and realized he needed to do his homework. He walked inside and then raced straight to his room, throwing his backpack on the floor by his desk and heading straight for the old stereo sitting on top of his dresser. It was already tuned to the exact station Dean always listened to, with the minimum amount of occasional static for it to sound cool. He clicked a few buttons on the side and it blasted to life.

". . . commercial free hour! Kicking it off for you here's The Kinks with 'You Really Got Me' on 88.9FM! We've got the oldies you love, made just for you!"

Dean cranked up the volume, sat at his desk, and pulled out his notebook.

Science, work on an essay, math, read for social studies, etcetera etcetera etcetera. Dean sighed and pulled his social studies textbook out of his backpack. It was going to be a bad end to the day, he knew it.

 _See don't ever set me free_

Why did Scandinavia have to have such a large and profound history? Why didn't they just stay in Europe and not go to West Africa so he could have less homework?

 _American woman, stay away from me_

Thank god that was over. Dean never wanted to know that much about Scandinavia in his life, and he hated himself for finding it a bit interesting.

 _Bye bye baby, it's been a sweet love_

If Dean ever had the need to graph a circle later in his actual life or needed to in his job, he'd probably kill everyone in the nearby vicinity and then himself, because this was absolute hell. No one needs to graph circles, no one.

 _I'm a traveler of both time and space_

He did this three different ways and somehow all of them are wrong? What? How did he screw up-oh. Oh okay there it is.

 _Oh pilot of the storm who leaves no trace_

He just needed to finish two more paragraphs and then all he had to do was read, come on. He was never picking an essay topic as depressing as the making and use of nuclear weapons. God he felt like he was going to throw up.

 _There must be some kind of way outta here_

Oh, he forgot about doing more practice math. If he didn't already have a low B he'd skip it but damn it.

 _Yeah you shook me all night long_

Dean threw his math textbook onto his bed and it bounced soundlessly on his pillows. He was finally done, thank god. Now he just needed to get through one more day until the weekend. Then there was only four days, and next Friday was homecoming, which meant parties and spiked punch and maybe finding someone to hook up with after the dance. John was even letting Sam stay out until ten. He had probably given up on trying to get Dean home at a reasonable hour after school events or parties. Dean shoved his textbook a little too forcefully into his bag and all but threw himself onto his bed. He had a little under an hour to kill before dinner (Sam wanted to try and make enchiladas by himself, so he'll see how that turned out). Dean pulled out his phone and after mindlessly scrolling through social media, he decided to text Cas.

Y _ou: What's up? I just finished hw and i want to kill whoever invented circle graphing_

Dean stared at the message box for what was probably way too long, hoping for a reply, before he stood up and put his phone in his pocket.

"I'm not a damn thirteen year old girl waiting for her boyfriend," Dean muttered to himself. He grabbed the book he was supposed to read for English class called Go Ask Alice and turned off the radio before heading up to the attic. It was much cooler now that the weather was changing. The wooden floors would soon grow prickly and cold, and he'd have to use the blankets he stored up here, but for now it was comfortable. Dean loved fall and spring in the attic, because they were seasons of change. He would slowly feel the air get cold and cold or warmer and warmer with each passing day. The change in temperature also brought new smells and sounds and feeling to the attic. As the cold air worked it's way into the walls, it smelled perpetually of mint and crispness. Even now, the smell of fall was weaving through the uninsulated walls and floors of the attic. Dean padded over to his corner of blankets and boxes, a place that looked like the remains of a child's fort, and opened up the book to where he left off. He was so deep in reading he almost didn't hear the bright chime of his phone that meant Cas had texted him back. Almost. He reluctantly set the book down clicked open the message.

 _Cas: if u think circle graphing is bad, try calculus._

Funny after all this time Dean never knew what math course Cas was taking. He knew Cas was smart, he knew he'd be advance what with his 4.3 GPA, but calculus?

 _You: I'd rather cut off my toes with a pen cap and then eat the pen cap_

Cas replied almost instantly, and Dean was half ashamed and half confused when the alert sent a jolt up his heart.

 _Cas: I can help u out if u want? Kevin's better at this than I am but he's got so much on his plate that I'm surprised he's still alive_

That was true. In the summer Kevin said that he was free. No homework, no extra curricular activities, no nothing. But when school rolled around his schedule was so airtight that almost nothing could break it. From violin practice to studying to online courses, Kevin was a machine. Sometimes Dean didn't know how he dealt with it all. More than one time Dean would have to remind him to eat or drink or sleep. More than one time Dean needed to listen to him crying over the phone in the middle of the night, half with stress and half with delusion from going so long without sleep. Not like Kevin stayed up late on purpose, no. Everything in his like was planned and orderly and scheduled. The right amount of everything each day, and a time slot for sleep. The only problem, Kevin had told them, was that his brain had been working and working and going so fast that when it was time to sleep and calm down, he couldn't make it stop. Everything was laid out and planned so Kevin had no time to think of anything else, but once it got quiet and dark and there was nothing, he started to get bad.

 _You: You'd really help me? I'm kinda hopeless. Also ur right, kev works himself too hard._

Cas didn't respond until during dinner (Sam hadn't burnt anything, and it tasted pretty good) and Dean had to resist the urge to check his phone at the dinner table. He looked at it finally when he was tossing around in bed and unable to get his brain to shut up.

 _Cas: if ur free tmrw after school we can stay in the library and work on ur stuff?_

It was almost twelve o'clock, and he didn't know if responding would wake Cas up, but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep at all knowing Cas's question was still unanswered.

 _You: Sure, see u then._

Dean struggled a little more to get to sleep, but not for long. It would surprise him next morning how he fell asleep almost five minutes after sending that text to Cas.

The dream was bad though. In a way he was unfamiliar with. His dreams usually were bad but this one was pure creepy. He was sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office or something, and everything was pitch black except for the glowing, empty fish tank. The blackness moved and swayed like the ocean, and each time it lapped up the legs of Dean's chair it went higher, higher, higher, until Dean pulled his legs up to his chin and buried his head in his knees. Then it sloshed over his shoes, wet the edges of his jeans, turned into this slime substance that crawled up Dean's body. It was freezing cold but at the same time it burnt like acid and bit by bit started to suffocate him. Dean was paralyzed, he was drowning, he was-

And then it changed all of a sudden. Right as Dean couldn't take it anymore, it changed. He was in the library with Cas, sitting at one of the tables with illegible textbooks spread in front of them, and Cas was saying something, staring at him, and all Dena could do was stare at the blackness hiding in one of the shelves. The dark sea had followed him, followed him into this safe place in his head. But it disappeared in a blink, and when Dean looked back at Cas he had disappeared too.

* * *

Friday passed smooth and easy. Everyone was excited for the long weekend, the dance next week, and in the exclusive case of Dean Winchester, spending time with his friend and hanging out in the library. He called it this in his head because he absolutely did not want to acknowledge the fact they would be doing math homework, although once he actually got to the library he had to accept it.

"What took you so long?" Cas asked.

Dean dumped his bag on the ground and pulled up a chair next to Cas.

"Apparently drinking five gatorades in a day also requires you to use the bathroom at the end of it." Dean smiled. "Who knew?"

"Ignoring your complete lack of knowledge on personal anatomical needs, what have you got for homework?"

Dean put his head on the table and crossed his arms over it.

"I thought maybe we'd skip the nerdy shit and go to sleep," he said.

He could hear Cas do his little huff of disappointment and tap on the table. Dean lifted his head and got out his notebook and textbook. He flipped both open and slowly made his way to the correct page on both.

Cas read over the problems answers, and then stared blankly at his work.

"You did this three different times and got a different answer for all of them." He pointed to one of the problems.

"Explain how."

Dean threw up his arms. "If I knew how I wouldn't be here."

"The first step to learning is comprehension of instruction and ability to understand and repeat instruction. If you can understand the formulas and what went wrong, you'll know what to do next time," he said.

"You're using way too many fancy words." Dean picked up the pencil and re-wrote the problem.

Cas tucked his pencil behind his ear and crossed his arms. "Do you want me to help you or not? I know how to do this and I'm got getting any younger here."

"You're seventeen, you don't get to pull the 'I'm not getting any younger' card." Dean smirked at him but shut up because his attention was half math and half on the pencil tucked behind Cas's ear. It balanced there perfectly, little stray hairs covering bits of it. And then the half of his brain that wasn't working on math was working on not reaching out and moving the pencil. He almost did once but played it off and stretching and only had to endure one of Cas's routine "how are you a functioning human being" looks instead of eternal embarrassment.

"And then the last step for this one is-"

"Got it."

Dean looked at his work and then at the answers.

"Congrats. You've finished." Cas reached into his backpack and pulled out a package of pumpkin marshmallow peeps.

"What's this?"

"It's your reward for finishing your homework. Positive conditioning, I'm testing it out," Cas explained as he put away his books.

"I don't know what that means but thank you for the food." Dean slid the package into the side pocket of his bag and put the rest of his things away.

"Do you wanna do this more often? Like next friday or something?" Cas wound the slack in his necklace around his fingers.

"Sure," Dean said.

Cas nodded and kept toying with his necklace. Dean picked up his bag and started walking out with Cas following suit. A glance at his watch said that it was close to four o'clock, just when all the after-school activities ended and the school was locked up.

"You wanna come over to my house or something?" Dean blurted.

"What like, right now? Cas said.

Dean shifted his backpack on his shoulders and felt the back of his neck heat up. "Well, yeah, if you want. I'll tell my dad we're doing homework or something."

Cas kept fiddling with his necklace.

"If it's okay with your dad, sure," Cas said.

Dean smiled and pressed his lips together to avoid showing it. Once they were in the parking lot Dean opened the door for Cas and then slipped into the driver's seat. Even after a good day it was nice to be behind the wheel again. Dean slid a cassette tape into the player (the tape was John's and it's so old it skips a song near the end) and drove off.

"You can roll down the window if you want," Dean said. "It's fun."

At that point Dean realizes that with school and after school stuff and homework, Dean's never gotten the chance to take Cas on a drive like he always did with Charlie and Kevin. Where all the windows were down and the bass of the music felt like another heartbeat. Dean made a mental note to take a long way home and to drive around some more the next time he hung out with Cas. It was odd to think there was a time when it was just him and Charlie and Kevin. They'd known each other for only two months and already Dean felt as close to Cas as he did to Charlie and Kevin. Odder still was the little voice in Dean's head and the feel in his chest that said he wanted to be even closer to him.

People try to put us down

Just because we get around

Things they do look awful cold

Cas stuck a hand out the window and moved it up and down like he was going over little invisible waves. Dean should have had his eyes on the road but he looked over at Cas just in time to see him mouthing along the words to the song, so it was worth a few seconds of poor driving.

I hope I die before I get old

"So Halloween's tomorrow, and Raphael is throwing a party," Dean said as they pulled into the driveway at his house.

Cas reached in the back seat for where he threw his backpack and got out of the car soon after Dean did.

"How do you know Raphael?"

Dean shut his door and fished his house keys out of his pocket.

"He's on the baseball team. Second base man."

A false god. A stupid punk who thinks he's everything.

"Figures."

"Did you wanna come? He expects me to go and I don't think I can survive another party alone with him and the team." Dean opened the door and let Cas in.

"They don't seem that bad, but yeah I'll go. Just as long as I don't get roofied or kidnapped. Charlie and Kevin going?"

Dean closed the door and said a quick hello to his dad who was sitting on the couch.

"I know Kevin has to go to some concert thing out in Iowa and I haven't asked Charlie yet," Dean said.

"If there's food she'll probably go," Cas said.

"Does vodka jello count as food?" Dean shouldered his backpack onto the floor next to his bed.

"No, and now I'm concerned for you." Cas sat backwards on Dean's desk chair.

"Does regular jello count as food?"

"On rare occasions."

Dean leaned against the wall and tapped his fingers on the back of his hand. It occurred to him then that Cas had never actually been in his bedroom before. He looked horribly out of place in Dean's room with a tie tucked under a knitted sweater. He was so put together, looking like he had been pressed and ironed before every new day, where Dean's room room looked worn and lived in. Cas looked so untouched and clean compared to the yellow walls, the rumpled bedsheets, the bareness of Dean's room.

"I'm bored."

"You're always bored. Find something to do," Cas said.

"You want the grand tour?"

Cas swung his legs over the seat and stood up. "I thought you'd never ask."

"For three low payments of nineteen-ninety-nine, you can with your own eyes see the complete mess that is the Winchester household," Dean said.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway.

"To the right is the bathroom and Sam's room, and at the end of the hall is my dad's room." Dean checked to see Cas was following him and walked down the stairs.

"This is the living room where we store our video games."

Dean turned the corner.

"And this is the kitchen-slash-dining-room where we cook and eat people."

Cas looked at a few of the pictures hanging on the walls. Dean's favorite was Sam's eighth grade photo where he stuck up his hair in tufts with hair spray and deadpanned the camera. John though it was so funny that he actually hung it up. Mary was furious but it was too late to do retakes. Sam said it was worth getting grounded for two weeks.

"Closet over here, bathroom over there, and this is the basement," Dean flicked on the lights and descended the stairs.

"Let me guess, this is where you lure and kill people," Cas said, following him.

"No, this is where we keep the old exercise machines and shit that was here when we bought the house." Dean flipped the switch at the bottom of the stairs and the basement lit up in an eerie yellow glow. Concrete walls, concrete floor, metal supports, and rusting at the edges i-beams made up more of the room. The old machines were shoved into one corner along with the boxes of Christmas decorations.

"But yes, we also kill people here." Dean flipped the master switch that turned off all the lights in the basement and plunged them into darkness for a split second.

"Shit!"

Dean clicked the lights again and the basement lit up with Cas at the top of the stairs.

"You thought I was going to kill you?"

"Fight or flight response set on hypersensitivity from a lifetime of scary movies with my brother," Cas said.

"Which one? Don't you have like five?" Dean walked up the stairs and flicked off the lights.

"I have two brothers, a stepbrother, and a sister. Michael and Lucian are twenty-five and twenty-four, Gabriel is twenty-one, and my sister Anna is nineteen."  
Dean shut the basement door and checked his phone. There was a text from his father saying he was going to town and he would be back in an hour and a half.

"How do you live with them all? Sammy just got here and it's already chaos."  
"I don't. Live with them, I mean," Cas said. "My little cousin Claire is living with us, but my siblings have all moved away. Anna left in the middle of last summer, and she was the last to go."

"Tell me to shut up if I'm pushing too much, but why did she leave home so soon after graduating?"

Cas bit his bottom lip and twisted his necklace.

"Put simply, my parents and her didn't see eye to eye and it wasn't healthy."

Dean nodded, knowing it was time to change the subject.

"Shove that goddam blue shell up your ass princess peach, I swear if you- oh shit!"

Cas frowned at Dean in confusion and Dean just shrugged his shoulders.

They walked cautiously into the living room to find Sam and a blond girl sitting on the couch with remote controllers in their hands and a mario kart race on the T.V.

"Zoom zoom, coming for your first place," Sam said as his character raced just behind what Dean assumed was the girl's.

"I will chuck your stupid hover car off the road and into the mushroom void if you push me off the track."

"Oh, what's this, I'm going, going. . ." Sam speed ahead of the girl's character and across the finish line.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said. "Who's your friend?"

Sam jumped and looked back and forth at Dean and Cas.

"Hey Cas. Sorry I didn't tell you guys, this is my friend Jess." Sam and Jess stood up and placed their controllers on the couch.

"Jessica Moore," Jess said. She shook hands with Dean and Cas and smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," Cas said.

"Sam might've told you, I'm Dean, this is Cas." Dean nodded in Cas's general direction.

"So Sammy, does dad know you brought a girl home?" Dean teased. Sam shot him a look that said drop dead and never talk to me when this girl is in a three-mile radius. Dean responded with an eyebrow raise and a smile.

"Does dad know you're gonna get wasted at Raphael's shit show tomorrow?"

"Fair point."

They looked around awkwardly for a few seconds before Sam suggested they all play mario kart together, to which Jess replied: "You're saying that because if we play the course I chose next round I'll win."

She agreed to play after Cas suggested she team up with Dean so she could still beat Sam.

"Dibs on toad," Dean said.

"Yoshi." Cas plugged in the two extra controllers.

"Donkey."

Jess claimed she could beat them with any character, any cart, and Dean was surprised to see that she did. They randomized everything and she beat them all out.

"I've been playing this game since I was five years old, I know all the tricks of the trade,"" Jess said.

"You're a liar," Sam said as they finished.

"Bet. One round, you pick everything out, and I can beat you."

The race lasted a minute. Jess took first, Sam took third.

After Jess left and Dean was getting ready to drive Cas home, he turned to Sam who was putting the game away and smiling like an idiot.

"That the girl you're taking to homecoming?" Dean asked. Sam wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"That's Jess, I'm taking Amy."

"Sam, a little advice?"

"I thought you didn't know anything about girls?" Sam still went quiet and let Dean speak.

"Marry her. I swear to God that is the one person on the planet that can put you in your place," Dean said.

Sam laughed and just shook his head.

 **AN: A wrote a bit longer chapter to make up for the wait, so I hope it's good! Leaving a review or just a comment takes just a minute, and it's very helpful for the continuation of the story and for my motivation! Tell me what you like and didn't like, criticism, etc.**

 **Also a question: Would you want to see bits of Sam's life in his point of view? Like more on him and his friends, moments with Dean and his gang but only with Sam's POV, things like that. Let me know and tell me what more you want from this story so I can add more to the already existing plan I have in my head. Thanks for the read, and again _please_ tell me what you though of this chapter and the story! Thank you :)**


	5. A Plethora of Accidents

It was 4:38.

Dean was standing in front of the long mirror in his room staring at his reflection, trying to pick out any flaws or oddities in his image. He squinted at himself-his other self reflected in the mirror and tilted his head. The reflection tiled it's head.

Well of course it did, it's your reflection.

Still, he felt more at home in his dad's old leather jacket or even his baseball uniform that in this tight fitting suit that pinched his elbows and scratched his neck. He looked like he was made of plastic.

He knew he was over analyzing everything but he couldn't help it. Everything he saw was placed under a mental microscope. The stiffness of his collar that scraped the back of his neck when he turned was surely something people would notice. Or maybe a fold in his shirt or a scuff on his shoes.

Usually he wasn't this nervous for a school event. He'd been to all the stupid formals, the dances, but for some reason now he was in edge.

"Dean! Time to go!"

Dean snapped his head go his door and yelled back.

"Hold on a minute!"

He could hear Sam running from the door to the stairs. Could picture him checking his watch and the clock every second and sending glares at the staircase.

"Come on!"

Dean took a deep breath and hurried downstairs.

"Lookin' sharp Sammy." Dean grabbed his things off the kitchen table and followed Sam out the front door.

"See you later dad."

John smiled from the living room. Before Dean left he caught a glance of the house phone pressed to John's ear and a snippet of the conversation.

"Yes, by Tuesday, you got it."

Dean locked the door behind him and stuffed his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket.

"They're not even here yet and you still dragged me out here?"

"Charlie just texted me and said she'd be here soon." Sam pulled at the back of his hair.

"Which means I could have stayed in my room for another two minutes."

"Just because you insist on getting everywhere borderline late doesn't mean you have to inflict that on me," Sam said.

Dean squinted at the sun. The sun was setting earlier and earlier each day. Soon it would be close to five o'clock and they'd be in darkness.

"See, she's right here."

Dean looked in the direction Sam nodded to and saw a blue honda running along the empty road. They weren't completely out in the sticks, but the houses were spaced with a quarter of a mile in between them, and ten minutes into the drive to school there were no turns in the road. Dean only encountered two street lights when driving to school. The road by his house stretched out into infinity in two different directions. It was like stepping out into a highway right off your front yard.

Charlie pulled up in her mother's old honda with Kevin in shotgun and Cas in the back. Dean opened the door to the left and slid in the seat next to Cas. Sam sat on Dean's other side.

"Thank you for the ride Charlie," Sam said. Ever the Gentlemen.

"Such chivalry. You could learn a thing or two from your brother Dean." Charlie turned the rearview mirror and backed out of the driveway.

"Are we gonna eat before or after, because I found five dollars in the street and it's begging to be spent," Cas said.

"You actually found five dollars?" Sam said.

Cas pulled a crumpled up bill out of his back pocket and held it between two fingers.

"I think I'm gonna start charging passengers gas money, so if you could be so kind as to present your five dollar fee Castiel."

"No way. This has to be some gift from God. I swear, it was just there in the street."

"Did you run into the street to get it?" Dean asked. Cas laughed and Dean offhandedly noticed how his shoulder shook along with Cas' where they were pressed together.

"Just imagining that has given me emotional trauma, for which I must be financially compensated," Kevin said. He turned to his right so he could face the backseat while talking.

"Everybody got seatbelts on?" Charlie asked. Sam quickly moved to put his on with a single click.

"There's literally no one on the road, we're not gonna get in a crash and die," Kevin grumbled.

"But if we do guess who is held responsible? Me for once, because Dean shared drive time." Charlie said.

Dean looked out the window on Cas's side of the car and watched the mostly dead fields of corn pass by. Everything just a blur of yellow and brown and green. Off in the distance he could see massive silos and a little red blip that he assumed was a barn. Then it disappeared as Charlie turned into town and the corn fields turned into houses and kids playing the leaves outside. Dean spotted a group of little boys kicked a soccer ball across their backyard into a pile of leaves.

His eyes drifted back into the car and landed on Cas. In the short time he'd know him, Dean had come to understand that Cas's wardrobe consisted of two types of outfits. A white dress shirt and pleated pants, or cargo pants and button down tees. Today it was a white dress shirt, matching grey suit jacket and pants, and a startling blue tie. Dean also noted that Cas's tie seemed to mirror his eyes. He was noticing a little too much. There were lines drawn in his brain that were not to be crossed, traced over again and again on each neuron in his head.

Too soon they pulled up in the McDonald's parking lot across from school, and Charlie played a sophomore working there ten bucks to make sure they didn't get her car taken away. The kid was probably gonna make close to a hundred dollars off people parking their cars in nearby fast-food joints as the school parking lot closed.

"And you'll call me if you guys ever change plans?"

"Yes Dean."

"Be home by nine?"

"Nine-thirty, stop acting like my mother," Sam grumbled.

"I wouldn't have to if-" Sam cut him off with a short reply, but they both knew the words that hung there unfinished. I wouldn't have to if our actual mother was there for you. If she didn't prioritize her job over the wellbeing of her child. Children. Whatever, Mary never felt like a mother to him since Dean was little. The only thing he cared about was that now, after everything, Mary had released custody over Sam like he was an old toy you could give away when you outgrew it. Dean mentally bit back any other harsh words against Mary, though the tenseness of the moment lingered well after Sam left them to hang out with his friends. Dean hoped that Sam would get home safe. He knew it was stupid to be suspicious of a little fourteen year old, but he'd never met Sam's other friends. What was the guy's name? Brandon? Brian? Brad?

Someone had already spiked the bowl of suspiciously watery lemonade inside. Five o'clock, sun barely setting, and Dean had drunk two plastic cups worth of spiked lemonade. He threw the cup away and vowed to stay away from it. Better not get drunk right now. There was no telling what kind of stupid stuff he'd do. Stuff he'd really regret the next morning.

The gym had been made-up with light blue fabric draping over the walls, covering up the folded bleachers and the exposed brick. Dean saw out of the corner of his eyes two shapeless figures running behind the curtains, a teacher scolding them from one end.

"Stupid freshmen," Kevin muttered.

"How do you know they're freshmen?" Cas asked.

"Because they're acting like idiots, that's what freshmen do. That's what we did," Charlie stated. She pulled at the ends of her hair and downed what Dean thought was her third cup of lemonade.

"You know that stuffs spiked, right?" Kevin said.

"That's why I'm drinking it." Charlie smirked.  
To be honest, it was uncomfortable for the first half hour before things got kicked into gear. Those thirty minutes were filled with slow dance songs where no one danced, and leaning side to side on aching feet. Goddamn DJ kept playing electronic pop music to get them pumped up. Dean wondered where they even got the money for pay for decoration and a DJ and a seemingly endless supply of lemonade when they ran out of hot lunches twenty minutes into lunch.

Charlie came back to their corner of the gym with her sixth or seventh cup of lemonade smiling.

"Madison Black still thinks we're dating," Charlie deadpanned. Cas looked frantically from Kevin to Cas in confusion.

Dean chuckled under his breath and scratched the back of his head.

"I think she liked the idea of us being this super cool power couple. A dream she needed to let go of three years ago," Dean said.

"You guys dated? I thought you only started hanging out last year?" Cas looked at Charlie to Dean to Kevin and back again.

"It wasn't actually three years ago, it was sophomore year. We dated for a couple months, and besides two kisses on the baseball bleachers holding hands was the farthest we got. It was terrible," Charlie admitted.

"You were the terrible kisser," Dean said. "I was amazing in all aspects. Much too good for you. Madison's jealous."

"Didn't you date Madison in seventh grade?" Cas asked him. Dean snorted and told Cas to shut up. In the dark light he couldn't see the redness crawl up the back of his neck, or hear the stutter of his words over the music.

"Should we ever tell her I'm gay, or let her live in a fantasy where "Char-Dean" is still a thing?" Charlie leaned against the wall and picked at a thread in her dress.

"She seems like the kind of girl who would ask you not to hit on her the instant she found out you like members of her gender," Cas said.

"True. Although she did sa she'd give me four dollars if I asked you to dance with me on the next song," Charlie said to Kevin.  
"How are you always getting people to give you money for stupid shit like this?" Cas hit the back of his head against the curtain, forgetting the wall wasn't there to stop him, and fell through. Thankfully he fell and hit his back against the wall and didn't fall all the way to the ground.

"Maybe if you routinely do stupid shit like that people will start to pay you for it," Kevin said seriously and held of his hand to Cas. Cas glare-smirked at him and got back to his feet himself.

"Oh my god this is gonna be the easiest four dollars in my life," Charlie sighed. The goddamn macarena was playing. Half the people there rushed to the center of the floor as chaos ensued. This was the second time that night that they played that stupid song. Dean wouldn't say, but he only thought it was stupid because he couldn't get one of the steps down. They taught it to them one week in middle school and Dean hated his life for that one week.

Charlie grabbed Kevin's arm and ran into the mass of people.

"Aren't you gonna go up?" Dean asked Cas.

"I actually don't know how to do this."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Same."

Dean craned his neck upwards and stared at the beams and pipes of the gym ceiling.

"I need a drink or something," Dean muttered.

"Go get some lemonade. Be like Charlie."

"Don't ever compare me to Charlie on alcohol intake. She drinks four wine coolers and falls asleep."

"What in the hell is a wine cooler?"

"My point exactly," Dean said. He yawned and glanced at his watch. 7:12.

"This is sort of boring. Very anticlimactic," Cas said.

"I mean, have you ever been to a homecoming?" Dean asked.

"No."

Dean blinked at him. "I was joking. You mean you've never really been to one out of your four years?"

Cas shook his head. Somewhere in a far-away place the song was changing, but Dean couldn't pay attention.

"Not really a fan. Seemed to be a place where you're sweaty and uncomfortable unless you're dating someone." Cas shrugged.

"The real fun is afterwards," Dean said. "Staying out and eating ungodly amounts of fast food and cheap wine."

Cas laughed. "That sounds terrible."

Dean fake frowned. "I'm offended! You mock my tradition!"  
Cas smiled. More accurately, he opened his mouth and lit up the gymnasium. He had one of those smiles that manifested itself in his entire face. It was incomplete without the crinkle of his eyes or the pull of his lips.

"So what have you done here?"

"Uh. be more specific."

"What kind of nice universal high school experiences have you had?"

Cas pursed his lips and looked towards the ceiling.

"I took the ACT seven times," Cas said.

"Why would you ever, ever, ever do that?" Dean stared at him. Cas rolled his eyes and got that look like he was about to launch into a deep explanation.

"Just give me the short version," Dean said.

Cas huffed. "I got really bad scores the first three times because I had too much anxiety over it, and the other three times I was working my way up to being comfortable with the test layout."

"Six damn times though."

"I need to get into a good college out of state. If I have to live with my parents for another year I'll freak. Though I don't know what to do about Claire," Cas muttered.

"Claire? Your little cousin that lives with you?"

Cas nodded. "She's not that little. She's thirteen, but she's gone through some shit and I can't leave her here. I wouldn't leave her with my parents even if she was just a year younger than me though."

"Well you can't exactly haul her off to college with you. Your parents would be her new legal guardians," Dean said.

"Yeah, I know that, but I need to figure something out so she's not alone with them for five years."

"Are they really that bad? Do they, well, like, do they-"

"They don't hit me if that's what you mean." Cas deadpanned. Dean released a bit of tension in his shoulders.

"My dad's nice sometimes. My mom's just. . .cold. They don't want me there, but they're to polite to show it, so they just never acknowledge me if they can. I can't really put it into words. But it's not that kind of bad. Don't worry about me," Cas said.

"I'll always worry about you. You're my friend."

Cas snorted and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm serious. If you need anywhere to go, anything at-"

"Don't. Please don't offer me anything. Don't Doctor Phil me."

Dean nodded and let the subject drop.

"Have you done anything else? Gone to prom? A baseball game? Detention spree? Heartbreak?"

"I skipped everything last year, but I've been to a few baseball games. Sometimes they conflict with meets though, so I can't go."  
"Meets?"  
"I'm on the swim team. Varsity, so we have meets almost every week. Lots of long bus rides."

Shut your mouth, you're starting too long.

"Why didn't I know this?"

Cas shrugged. "I thought I mentioned it before, but apparently not. I'm on varsity swim team. I've never gotten a detention, I haven't really dated anyone."

"Never?"  
"For which one?"

"Both."

"I hate getting into trouble. I'm a teacher's pet. I behave. I dated Gia Suarez in sophomore year but that didn't work out. Went with someone from my summer camp for like two months the summer of sophomore and junior year. Nothing serious either times though. I only dated Gia for a month before we broke it off."

Dean nodded. Again, other things were happening in the gymnasium, but it was like he and Cas were in a totally different place.

"You?"

"Well obviously I go to games. I've gotten seven detentions, all in one week, gone to every dance event, and my ex broke up with my before summer."

"Are you still upset over it?"

"Not really. It wasn't working for either of us, but I really did love her. A part of my still does, but only because you can't take back loving someone." He glanced at the sea of people, now dancing and laughing with whatever electronic song was on. Cas was tapping his foot to the beat.

"You know this song?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded. "It's called Middle."

"That's a weird name."

"So is 'Immigrant Song' and 'Big Balls', " Cas retorted.

"Fair point."

If Dean really looked into the crowd he would at that time see Charlie and Kevin chugging as many cups of lemonade at a time with a circle of people surrounding them.

"You've really never gone steady with anyone?"

Cas laughed. "No. I thought if I was ever going to seriously date someone I'd do it senior year because I'd need to concentrate on school the other three. Also, never again say 'go steady'."

"Why?"

"Because it makes you sound like a lame old man," Cas muttered.

Before Dean could protest, Cas' eyes widened and he pointed excitedly at the speakers. Dean knew the music must have changed.

"What, what is it?"

"I know this song too!"

"You know everything they're playing?"

Cas nodded.

"You're insane."

"I could say the same thing to you. You use cassette tapes and a radio."

"Fair point."

They spent the next fifteen minutes naming each song that played.

"Thinking Out Loud," Cas said.

"Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."

"Closer."

"Don't Stop Believing."

"Oh! This one's really good!" Cas said.

Dean only hear a few keyboard notes and a drum beat.

"It's called Don't Swallow the Cap by this band called The National. They're so good."

Cas nodded his head and mouthed the lyrics.

You can't imagine how I hate this. Graceless.

Those lines in his head are yellow police tape. Thick lines with bold print.

DO NOT CROSS

CAUTION

KEEP OUT

Dean kept his eyes firmly fixed on Cas' lip mouthing the words to the song. And then when Dean thought it couldn't get worse, it did. Cas smiled at him and started singing.

" _Is there a powder to erase this? Is it dissolvable and tasteless? Graceless_. I can't believe they're playing this. I'd've thought it would be too pretentious and obscure."

"It is."

Cas laughed.

Cas' lips. The lines around his eyes. The scar on his eyebrow. The baby-stubble on his cheeks.

They're close to each other and before Dean can think, he reached out and took the lapel of Cas' jacket in between his thumb and finger.

Dean was aware suddenly that if people weren't involved in dancing and talking they could see him. See Cas. See them like this.

 _Don't do this._

Dean moved the blue curtains forward and slipped behind them, pulling Cas along with him. As soon as the curtain fell back into place, Dean ripped the police line to shreds and switched his brain off.

 _Stop thinking._

He leapt for it. Grabbed Cas' jacket and pressed their lips together.

Apparently Dean had been kissing wrong for his entire life. Apparently kissing Castiel activated nerves on his lips and on his tongue that hadn't existed before. He had never before been aware of himself like this.

Dean recalled a science class about what people were made of. Molecules and synapses and nerves, billions upon billions of atoms.

Cas slid his tongue in his mouth and yanked a fist of Dean's hair.

Atoms collide.

Dean bit on Cas' bottom lip, trying to blindly get his hands on some more of Cas' skin.

What are you doing? You're going to ruin everything.

How can this ruin things if it feels so right?

Because you're an idiot.

Cas pulled at Dean's neck and arm, getting him completely pinned to Cas. Dean put his arms on Cas', and spun them around so he was pushing Cas against the folded up bleachers. Cas moved his hips. Nerves in Dean's fingers completely fried. He was burning up.

Dean fumbled with the top button of Cas' shirt before Cas broke apart from him and agonizingly slowly undid the top button.

Dean kissed bruises on Cas's neck, areas that he knew would turn to shades of purple and blue rimmed with yellow. A way to say this is real, this happened, this happened.

"I thought you said you'd never dated. . .anybody?" Dean said in between kisses.

Cas caught his breath before answering. "Summer between. . . sophomore and junior year. . . was an educating time in my life."

Dean went right back to kissing him. Pulling on Cas' lips, running his hands on the back of his neck. Cas tasted like lemonade and mint gum.

"We. . . should. . ." Cas didn't finish the sentence before he gave up and started sucking and biting the edge of Dean's jaw, working his way down to Dean's neck. When Cas's lips fell on Dean's jugular, Dean could feel his heartbeat pulse against Cas's lips. It made him want to pull Cas closer to him and intertwine their very nervous system. He hoped Cas left a nice ugly mark on his neck.

Too soon they separated and tried to make each other look decent. They acted the same as always, short and sarcastic and friendly. Not at all like they'd been kissing five seconds ago. It was almost impossible to pretend it didn't happen, but Dean didn't push, and neither did Cas. They didn't talk about it until well after they left the dance.

 _What have you done._

Charlie dropped off Dean and Cas and Cas' house before turning around and going to drop off Kevin. Dean knew it was suspicious of him to ask her to leave him and Cas here for a few minutes, but Charlie didn't like to pry into other people's business until a good time. It was awkward. Dean didn't pretend like it wasn't. Standing outside a church talking about this.

"So-"

"I'm-"

"You go first-"

"Sorry, you-"

Dean took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"Are things gonna be different now?" He asked.

Cas nodded but kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Like it hurt for him to even look at Dean.

"I'm sorry," Dean continued. "I shouldn't have. I was being stupid."

Cas didn't nod but he kept staring at the ground.

"I kissed you back," Cas whispered. "So it's not your fault. Don't apologize."

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"So what does this mean now?"

Cas shrugged.

"I mean, does this mean we're gay? Or was that just an accident or something?"

Cas shrugged again and scratched and back of his neck.

"We can't pretend it didn't happen, can we?"

"I don't know god dammit!" Cas snapped his gaze upwards.

"I don't know what to do as much as you do. Maybe we should just. . . stop," Cas said.

"Stop what exactly?"

"Being close to each other. Talking all the time. This isn't gonna end good if we keep making mistakes."

Dean kicked at the grass. "Right. Mistakes. Just a mistake."

"Don't be like that. There's no way it could happen again. Look at us. Look where we live. We shouldn't have done it in the first place."

Dean balled his fists. "Stop avoiding saying it. Kissing." Dean spat out the last word. Cas almost flinched, like hearing it aloud hurt him.

"Kissing. We kissed. Made out. Say what you want, but don't pretend it didn't happen. Don't pretend."

"That's not the problem," Cas murmured. "The problem was that I actually liked kissing you. More than any of the other people I've kissed. More than girls." Cas' lips wobbled and he took a deep breath. Dean could've sworn that Cas looked like he was going to cry.

"I've had doubts about myself before. That I was. . . That I wasn't straight. But I never wanted them to be true, and now I don't know what I am," Cas finished.

Dean had always thought that between the two of them, Cas was more confident. More sure of himself. More at home in his own skin. Apparently everyone had something to hide. Dean had been hiding for so long that it seemed this small version of himself had disappeared.

When he was fourteen years old, Dean went to a two-week long summer program in Nebraska of all places for baseball skillbuilding or something, Dean couldn't remember exactly why he was there. He did remember that he made a friend there, a boy named Ethan Illiana with curly blond hair and glasses. He remembered a series of blurry days, and that somehow he'd wound up kissing Ethan behind a tree. (It was sort of horrible because neither of them knew how to kiss, so they just sort of shoved their faces together until they ran out of breath.) He remembered really hating himself for the first time.

He supposed that must have been how Cas was feeling. A confusing mix of hate and fear and disgust, denial and sadness and helplessness.

"Just because we kissed doesn't mean you have to be a certain thing. We don't have to change anything at all," Dean said.

"It just means that I can't pretend any longer. That I am what I am and nothing can change that, and I've gone a ruined everything," Cas said.

Then Dean did something that even he found unexpected. He laughed.

"I kissed you. Me. You didn't do anything, I want this," Dean said.

"You want to keep this up?"

"I want to try kissing you again," Dean said. "If you're comfortable with that. And if you're not comfortable with yourself right now, then you can choose what you want."

Cas' eyes flickered up to Dean's, and then to something behind Dean.

Dean turned around and saw Charlie driving towards them.

"Sorry," Dean said, walking away from Cas and to Charlie's car. "Text me when you can."

He opened the passenger door and immediately got an earful from Charlie.

"What was so important that it needed to be discussed the minute you got away from Kevin and I? You're acting weird, what's up?"

"Nothing horrible, I promise," Dean said. Charlie visibly relaxed. "Personal, sort of family stuff. I promise everything's okay though."

Charlie huffed but kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They drove the rest of the way home in silence, and when they reached Dean's house he gave Charlie a wave goodbye and ran inside.

By the time he undressed and slipped into bed, he'd already gotten two text messages from Cas.

 _Cas: Dean i don't think we can be friends anymore._

Dean's heart dropped.

 _Cas: I mean like "just friends". I don't know what you'd call it. Dating? God that's scary. Like you said, things r different and personally i won't be able to go back to the way things were. Sorry._

Dean turned the brightness down on his phone and tapped out a reply as best he could.

 _You: So options are either stop being friends or do this for real. Like the dating thing. Ha you're right, that's scary to say. To type. You know what i mean._

Cas: I guess, yeah. Can u really say that we could go back to normal?

You: no

Dean stared at his phone for a minute, watching little reply dots appear and disappear on the screen. He almost shut his phone off to go to sleep, but Cas finally responded.

 _Cas: I definitely don't want to stop being friends._

 _You: Not wanting to stop being friends and wanting to actually be together are two different things._

Dean took a deep breath and sent another message.

 _You: I like you. More than a friend, obviously. A lot more. And i liked kissing you. And when I see myself with you i'm happy._

 _Cas: I liked kissing you too_

 _You: Of course you did, what's not to like. I'm amazing._

Dean could almost see the laughter in Cas' eyes after he sent that, and he breathed a sigh of relief. They were still friends. Well, sort of. Could you be friends and dating at the same time? Dean thought you could. He'd heard people say before that their husband or wife was also their best friend. So it could work. Dean could still make Cas laugh. He could still love him the same way he loved Charlie and Kevin and Sam. Cas would always be family, just now there was another layer to it.

 _Cas: I get out of practice tomorrow at noon meet me at my house?_

 _You: You have practice on weekends?_

 _Cas: Sometimes, I have a meet on Sunday so we're practicing tomorrow. I have a 100 butterfly and a 500 free and i want to die_

 _You: I'll see u tmrw. Don't die before we get a chance to start dating. If that's what you want, i mean_

 _Cas: That's what I want. Night :-)_

That's what I want.

 _That's what I want._

Shit.

 **AN:  
** **There is no excuse for the. . . what, five month wait on this? Six? I was planning on updating every month at least but. . .**

 **I don't even have a life, but school and stuff got in the way and I had to put this on the back burner. On the bright side, I've been more focused on school and i'm already starting the 6th chapter and have a coherent plan for the new few updates! I'll try to stick to a better schedule but if you want to keep up with this story, give it a follow! I feed off of your reviews and follows people. You could tell me "hm, mediocre" on a comment and It would give me inspiration.**

 **In summation: I'M SO SORRY, I'll try harder to keep updating, and please give a comment or give this story a follow! It would really mean the world to me.**


	6. Finally, Christmas

It had been thirty-seven days since their first real date, and Dean and Cas' relationship was something like this:

They met on weekends or on friday's after Cas had practice at Cas' house to hang out for an hour or two. They did homework while Cas sat on his bed and Dean sat on the floor, because he couldn't concentrate when he was sitting on Cas' bed. It usually ended with them lying on the floor together and talking, and then turning on the radio to full blast, locking the door, and kissing. And each time there was the same dilemma of whether or not Cas was making a good decision, should they tell anyone, are they at a point where they could call this dating, etcetera etcetera. Sometimes they got food, sometimes they talked to Claire for a while, but they had fallen into a routine.

Friday december third didn't look to be any different. Dean had finished his AP Stats homework and had packed everything into his school bag. Cas was playing music off his computer as he typed a paper for English. It was quiet and calm, and they hadn't said a word in fifteen minutes. Just being there seemed to be enough.

"Cas I don't mean to bring in a heavy topic and interrupt your homework but I can't get this outta my head." Dean stood up and sat on the edge of Cas' bed. Enough so they were eye level, but far enough so Dean could keep a level head.

Cas finished up a few sentences before he said, "You don't mean to but you're going to say it anyway."

"Yeah that's true."

"Spit it out then." Cas turned his laptop off and turned around to face him. Dean was struck again by how well Cas fit in his room, how constructed he seemed.

Blue sheets, blankets, and curtains, all the same color. White walls, black bookshelf, meticulously organized closet and desk. Even the posters on the wall were so Cas-Like that Dean wondered if Cas had chosen them or if they had materialized in his room because they could. The cameras (yes, cameras with an 's', Cas was that guy) set on top of his desk were all turned the same way, the books on his shelf alphabetized, and the glow-in-the-dark stars and comets on the ceiling all seemed to scream out Castiel Novak that Dean didn't know if he'd ever seen those things the same way.

"I wanna really talk about what's upsetting you about this whole thing. Because every time we kiss, every time we do anything, you get upset. I'm not mad at you, I just want to know _why_." Cas squirmed around on the bed.

"I don't know. That's part of what unsettles me most, is the fact I can't place this. I'm feeling that half of it is religious pressure and half of it is just the after effects of seventeen years of living in an environment that condemns anything out of the ordinary." Cas crossed his arms and took a deep breaths in and out.

"What can I do to help?"

Cas scratched the back of his head his both of his hands and ran a hand through his hair over and over. "That's exactly the problem with all of this. I'm on the track to being okay with. . . pursuing something romantic with you, and once I narrow down what's really bothering me then I can deal. But not everything is a simple problem with a simple answer that you are obliged to fix."

Dean carefully dissected Cas' words, trying to find a proper response. He probably shouldn't have said: "So I'm the problem?"

"Oh my _gosh_ no." Cas shifted so he was able to dramatically flop down on the bed. "I was just saying how right now you're acting as if everything needs to be fixed by you, that has nothing to do with my crisis."

At this point the little voice in Dean's head was telling him not to be stupid, and another voice was yelling about how he needed to figure out what they were actually talking about now.

"Crisis."

"What?"

"So it is a big deal to you, you used the word crisis."

"It's not like that. It's more of a medium size crisis."

"But it's still a crisis of some size."

Cas groaned and tried to roll of the bed. Dean shoved him so he didn't.

"It's just this," Cas started. "I'm completely fine with where I am religiously. I'm going to go to church and be a good christian boy for the rest of my life. I'm fine with girls liking girls and boys liking boys. But it's all different when it's happening to me, and I don't know why that is, so I feel a little guilty I think. I don't know."

Dean threw his hands up and said, "See! Don't you feel better after opening up?" Dean made an overexaggerated happy face.

"Gosh, you sound like my therapist," Cas said.

"And how does that make you feel?" Dean pretended to take notes on the back of his hand.

"I dream of ending this painful existence, so good."

Dean nodded and spoke aloud as he "wrote" the words down.

"Nihilistic humor makes hard to tell if depressed or edgy."

"Yeah I'd say both."

Dean laughed, breaking his "character". Cas did that stupid thing where he obviously wanted to laugh and was doing a bad job of holding it in. Dean had always thought that it was sort of kind of maybe a little adorable, but now he was wondering why Cas would ever want to hold back laughter.

"You'd talk to me if you were really bothered by anything though, right?" Dean asked?

Cas nodded. He looked like a photograph. It was a picture perfect moment with the last of the sun coming through Cas' window.

"You're sure?"

Cas reached up and took Dean's hand in his. Number eight on the list of things Dean adored about Cas but would never say out loud? The fact that Cas liked to hold his hand. Cas had never said it aloud but every time it was safe for them, Cas would lock his hand with Dean's. Dean would always tease him about it, though he loved holding hands with Cas. He didn't care if it was a stupid, girly thing to like. Well, he almost didn't care. He knew that it felt just like kissing, the way it was easy and comfortable. He knew that he loved the way their fingers intertwined and wrapped around each other. He knew that it meant "together".

"Yes."

"Okay."

Cas sat up and held Dean's other hand. Dean wanted to kiss him. Sometimes he wanted to be close to Cas so much that if hurt. And then the craziest thing happened: Cas kissed him. Light. Quick. Soft. Dean's lips were chapped and Cas smelled like chlorine.

"Don't wanna ruin this but I need to be home in ten minutes or my dad'll kill me," Dean said. "I'd stay if I could."

Cas let go of Dean's hands and got off the bed. "I'll walk you out. Make sure to finish your homework so we can talk about Christmas Break on Sunday with Charlie and Kevin."

"I am _not_ doing anymore Stats homework for the rest of the school year. It's boring and he never even grades the homework."

Cas opened his bedroom door and walked into the hall. "Just put random stuff in for it. That's what I did for the entirety of middle school math."

Dean shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone. He followed Cas out and said a quick goodbye to Claire before running outside and getting in his car as fast as possible. It was getting colder and colder, and Dean refused to wear more than his normal leather jacket. He'd tried to explain that he usually had on at least three layers of clothes under the jacket as well, but eventually he'd need an upgrade.

There was pizza on the table by the time he got home, and he and Sam watched Game of Thrones until they fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

There wasn't much to say about finals week. The weeks before when the stress built up were the hardest, but once the actual week started Dean and all of his friends fell into a "fuck it, what happens happens" mood.

The first finals Dean had were AP Lit and Statistics. AP Lit was a little hard, but he pulled by with a B. Stats was just boring. He hated all the numbers. Brightside, they got out of school two hours earlier than usual.

Dean met Sam in the hall during lunch/study hall and shoved his backpack.

"'Sup nerd. How'd you first big scary high school finals go?" Dean waved his fingers in front of his face and made what he thought to be some incredible spooky ghost noises.

Sam shrugged and yawned. "I don't know. It wasn't too bad. English and Biology are easy classes though."

Dean nodded and scanned the halls for any of his friends. "Truly amazing. You'll do great on the next five, I'm sure. And you don't even have a real final for art." Dean smirked.

"You don't even take an arts class! You're only doing six finals!" Sam said, annoyed but smiling.

"True, but I'm older and better than you." Dean shoved him again and walked faster towards the emergency stairwell. "Later Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam muttered.

Dean spent the rest of lunch and study hall eating cookies (via Cas) and playing Cards Against Humanity (via Charlie).

The next day was the same, except Science what hard as shit. More brownies form Cas made up for it though. Dean would have thought that had weed in them they tasted so good. If it was anyone besides Cas, Dean would have assumed they were drugged.

The last day was the hardest for most people, with three finals crammed in and no study hall. Thankfully, Dean only took two and spent the rest of the day sleeping in the stairwell because Charlie, Cas, and Kevin all took an art class. (Dean made the wise choice of taking one in the summer of freshman year. He was dumb and bored.)

And then it was over, and it was winter break.


End file.
